


Collision Course Epilogues

by torres



Series: Anfield High [2]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-15 13:36:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 140,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2230977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torres/pseuds/torres
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Liverpool boys have had an eventful school year. But now, it's the summer before everyone leaves, so they're determined to make the most out of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A second chance at first love

It was an unexpected group of people but it was a fun bunch nonetheless.

There was Stevie who still wasn’t together with Xabi, but Sami, Riise and Carra had a running bet on how long their enforced “time-out” would stand; there was Harry who was the reason Stevie and Xabi had an impasse to begin with, who was now shagging – and “shagging _only_ ” – Finns who, in turn, was the ex-“shagging-only” partner and best friend of Daniel, who was now the “shagging-plus-plus” partner of Fernando who never really knew what “plus-plus” meant but went along for the ride anyway; Fernando was also, by the way, Harry’s roommate, which probably meant some shagging had gone on there in one form or the other but nobody ever asked; some backroom rumours also link the new star striker with the captain, though they insist they’re only friends, but some witnesses in a blacklisted party of Alex Curran – queen bee who on-and-off fancies the said captain – testify otherwise, but all of them also claim heavy dosages of illegal substances make their memory a little bit unreliable. 

Sami, Riise and Carra formed the senior triumvirate in the group: Sami being the infinitely wise, infinitely calm one, but with a hidden streak of mischievousness; Carra was the next, always loud, always brash, but everyone knew he was just a softie inside always looking out for everyone, and Riise, he was just always up to no good. Together, they were like the deity – too superior to be bothered by the petty squabbles in the squad, but when everything fell apart, they came down to put the pieces back together. And there was also Alvaro, who lived for group hugs and happiness, Dirk, who was always about three and a half minutes slower than everyone else, and Yossi who kind of watched everything unfold in the sidelines, always without a clue.

Somewhere along the way, they play football together – but that’s the boring part.

They would never have gotten together under normal circumstances but Sami said it was “the summer before everyone left” so attendance was a must. Crouchy’s family was moving to the Portsmouth and Riise’s father, who was an ambassador, just got assigned to Italy so they had to follow him to Rome. Harry and Finns were going to college. Sami was the only graduating student who was taking a break before uni and staying in the city.

And so Sami herded them all together in the restaurant Carra worked part-time in, mostly so they could abuse the Scouser’s employee benefits and get cheaper beer and chips than their menu prices. So there they were, sitting in a messy huddle of pushed-together tables in the corner of the pub, when Harry spoke up, eyes twinkling: “Let’s play truth or dare.”

“Oh, yes!” Arbeloa bounced on his stool excitedly.

Carra rolled his eyes, “What are you? High school?”

Harry laughed, “Until I leave this place to go to college, yes.”

The Scouser threw his hands up in the air as he put his apron back on, “Fine, but keep your voices down or the boss will be out to get me.”

“Come back after your shift!” Sami said, immediately taking the seat Carra vacated, and the Scouser only nodded in response before disappearing to the kitchens.

Riise was already at the edge of his seat, and by the grin on his face, it was obvious something was already brewing in his mind.

“Stevie, truth or dare.”

Stevie winced. Knowing John Arne Riise, trying to stall would only delay the inevitable. Once the Norwegian had a plan in mind, he wasn’t going to back down.

“Just shoot me a question,” Stevie relented, his heart beating a little bit faster.

Riise smiled smugly and the Scouser knew he made the wrong choice. “Tell me, is there any truth to what people are saying about you in the Alex Curran party?”

Stevie let out a little sigh of relief. He knew the answer to this one, “Well, I was there, if that’s what you’re asking. But the controversial, sensational rumours? Not a chance.” He felt Xabi relax beside him.

Riise fished, “What ‘controversial, sensational rumours’ are these?”

Stevie scowled at him, but he answered clearly, “I did not sleep with Fernando Torres.” He glanced at Dan, and raised his eyebrows meaningfully, “Happy?”

Stevie reclined back against his seat and continued, glancing at Xabi to make sure he was listening, “I don’t even know why people believe the gossip. It’s too unreal. Come on, I also heard that Fernando was having a threesome with identical twins that night!” He snorted, “Yeah, right.”

“I so wouldn’t put that past Fernando,” Harry said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin.

“Besides, if I really did have a threesome with twins, I don’t see why I wouldn’t own up to it,” Fernando laughed. “Because you all have to admit, that would be hot.”

Stevie caught Dan frowning deeply, so he cleared his throat and asked the defender, “Dan, truth: if ever I did sleep with Fernando during that party” – there were various choking sounds of disbelief because this was the first time Stevie had ever entertained the idea of the rumour being true – “would you kill me, even if that was roughly the same time you were both completely detached from one another?”

Dan didn’t even miss a beat. “Fuck yes! Just...” He ran his hands through his hair agitatedly, “So many times yes.”

“Awww,” Dirk cooed, batting his eyelashes at the two.

Fernando blushed, as he nudged Dan gently beside him. Dan looked at him distractedly, questioningly. He gripped the defender’s hand under the table and rubbed it comfortingly with his thumb, “I didn’t, okay?”

Dan smiled feebly, before murmuring back, “I know.” He returning the gesture by squeezing the Spaniard’s hand, but his forehead was still slightly furrowed in annoyance.

“Anyway, Dan, it’s your turn,” Finns reminded, fishing around the beer bucket and swishing the melting ice as he did.

Dan raised his glass and tipped it towards Alvaro. The gangly Spaniard returned his smile shakily.

“Alvaro, why couldn’t your wife come tonight?”

“Since when did we start assuming that everyone would pick truth?” Alvaro yelped in a huff, crossing his arms over his chest.

Dan didn’t budge, just sat there expectantly. Alvaro ghetto-snapped thrice in the air, “I will have you know that Pepe is not my wife, so you should all just drop it.”

Dan was the first to start snorting out laughing, but soon everyone followed once they caught on. Alvaro gaped at them cluelessly.

“I didn’t say I was talking about _Pepe_ , you know.”

“But you were thinking it!” Alvaro half-yelled, pointing a shaky, accusatory finger at the defender, who only dissolved into more chuckles.

“No, maybe _you_ were thinking it, Arby,” Riise chided, making kissy-faces.

Fernando knew it wasn’t his place, but he smiled apologetically at Alvaro for Dan anyway. Sometimes, it wasn’t easy being the partner (whatever that meant) of a smart-ass – you get dragged into a lot of shit.

Dirk had already started chanting, “Pepe and Alvie, sitting in a tree! F – U – C...” when Alvaro quickly diverted all the attention to someone else:

“Alonso!”

The Basque sat up, startled.

“If you could apologise to anyone in this table, who would it be and why?” Alvaro asked so quickly, he thought no one would understand him. But at the rate Stevie’s face was burning up and Xabi’s expression growing more horrified, maybe he made himself clear after all. 

“Fuck it, I dare you to apologise to that person now!” Alvaro cried out triumphantly. To be fair, he didn’t really plan that dare. It just slipped out. Guess he was much smarter than he gave himself credit for. The crisis was successfully diverted! That was one perk of having friends with disastrous love lives. 

Xabi whimpered sadly as he tried to gather his guts. Sami wryly noted the way Stevie hung his head, as if he wasn’t _really_ invested in the question, but the way he tipped his ear towards Xabi absolutely revealed otherwise anyway. More curiously, Harry suddenly took interest in peeling off the label off his beer bottle, as if it required every ounce of his concentration to scratch at the damp plastic sticker.

“Uh.” The Basque coughed lengthily before finally spluttering out. “Stevie...”

Arbeloa gave a high-pitched whoop that temporarily deafened everyone in the table, when Xabi continued, “I’m sorry for... fucking it all up.”

Harry dug harder and harder at the torn beer label with every word Xabi said: “It was just... one – big – mistake.” The Australian stifled a grunt and brushed aside his beer with a little too much force, before grabbing the pitcher of rum coke instead. He tried to tune out Xabi’s words with the sound of alcohol being poured into a glass.

“I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m glad you gave me a second chance. That is, without a doubt, the best thing that happened to me all year.”

By this time, the whole table had already erupted into cheers and off-tune love songs and jokes at Stevie’s expense. But the words rung hollowly in Harry’s ears – and it’s not like he didn’t know Xabi and Stevie were on the way to recovery. But why was it wrong for Harry to feel like every word Xabi said hailing Stevie in his life was another word Xabi would never ever say about him?

Harry tipped back his glass sharply and gulped down his drink in one or two swallows. Now he was wishing Alvaro gave him the same dare and he would sweetly say, _‘I want to apologise to Xabi – I’m sorry I threw you out when you came running back to me that night Stevie rejected you and your ridiculous excuses. And I’m sorry I threw you out without at least letting you come. And I’m sorry that, until now, you don’t have the guts to tell Stevie that.’_

Of course, if Harry was true to himself, he knew he wouldn’t be able to do that to Xabi. More likely, he would just give some lame-ass answer, like, _‘I want to apologise to Fernando – you left your wallet in the dorm room last week and I ran out of condoms, so I took your emergency one. So if you and Dan have plans tonight, uh, it had better be bareback.’_

Regardless, Harry didn’t expect it when he heard his name being called out. And he definitely didn’t expect for that person calling him to be Xabi.

“Harry,” Xabi smiled at him with this utterly glowing, absolutely forced eagerness to seem friendly and casual, “Truth or dare?”

 _‘Truth because I’ve already had enough of your lies, bitch.’_ Harry wanted to snap, but he vaguely heard himself respond dully instead, “Truth.”

“Okay,” Xabi sustained his Ms Universe grin, and looking around, Harry noted that everyone else was just uneasy as him. Stevie, even more so, probably. But Fernando looked more irritated than uneasy, but that was expected because, seriously, why the fuck was Xabi picking him after he just serenaded Stevie to his heart’s content?

“What is the best thing about Finns?” Xabi asked, beaming at the Australian and Irishman, his voice in perfect, perky intonation, you would think he was in the middle of a class presentation or a talk show or anything but the awkward huddle of exes and almost-beens that they really were.

Harry took a deep breath. He glanced briefly at Finns who was already blushing and hiding his face behind his jacket collar, and grinned at the Irishman.

“The thing I like best about Finns is that he’s not complicated.”

Everyone was quiet and Harry’s words were soft but clear. His perpetual joking smile was muted for once and he just looked fond, endeared.

“What you see is what you get with him,” Harry explained, letting his eyes drift to people in the table and he could see them trying to stifle tiny, giddy secret grins.

Xabi was struggling to grin too, but Harry knew him and he knew he was crestfallen inside. The corners of his lips sagged whatever Xabi did and his knuckles were white as it clutched at his phone tightly as some form of distraction.

It sent an unexpected pang to Harry’s heart.

“…Not that complicated was ever wrong, you know,” the Australian quickly amended, just because he found he _still_ wanted to make Xabi feel better. After all this time and after all they’ve been through.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed the midfielder still fiddling with his mobile intently, refusing to meet anyone’s eye, but the grip of his hand were noticeably more relaxed now.

Harry added quietly to himself as he checked on the Basque fleetingly again: _‘Because we were complicated once, and we got by fine.’_

Luckily, no one was paying attention to him and Xabi – they all thought Harry meant to take the swipe at Daniel and Fernando and they were laughing heartily at it, the two freckled boys scowling good-naturedly.

“Anyway, Fernando, it’s your turn,” Harry announced, trying to sound cheery so they could all move on from that tension.

Fernando scowled but finally answered with a sigh, “Truth. To be safe.”

Harry frowned but asked anyway, “Have you ever...” he paused to sneak a glance at Dan, “Had sex with Dan on my bed?”

The group burst out laughing and Dan buried his face in his hands in embarrassment.

Fernando turned a bright beet red. “What kind of question is that?”

“Fuck off, Nando,” Harry taunted, “Rules are rules and rules say that you have to answer anything I ask you.”

The Spaniard crossed his arms over his chest and stuck out his tongue.

“How mature,” Stevie laughed, ruffling Fernando’s hair affectionately.

Fernando pouted but finally spat out. “Of course we have.”

Harry’s jaw dropped and then everyone started hooting wildly.

“Daniel Agger you fucking slut!”

“Why would anyone do that?”

“Hey, it’s kind of kinky, okay.”

“Oh, god, not a mental image I wanted to have of you, Dirk.”

“Dammit, Fernando, I never fucked anyone in your bed.”

“Like anyone would ask.”

“Oh, believe me, some have.”

Fernando laughed and pat Harry’s shoulder, “Don’t worry, I was just kidding. Your sheets are spunk-free. Other than your own, I suppose.”

“Or Finns’.” Riise added.

The group laughed again, with Arbeloa quipping, “Aw, Dirky, don’t look _so_ disappointed!”

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Harry piped up. “It’s called ‘truth’ for a reason, and that means you can’t lie.”

Dan nudged Finns in the ribs and teased dryly, “Well, well, where’d you get a rocket scientist for a fuck buddy?”

“I wasn’t lying!” Fernando defended. “I was only withholding the truth temporarily.”

Finns elbowed Dan back, harder, snickering. “Well, well, I could say the same for you.”

“Sorry, Fernando,” Sami shook his head, “If you lie, you get a punishment.”

“Sami!” The Spaniard said, aghast.

“What’s the punishment?” Xabi asked curiously, leaning back on Stevie’s shoulder.

“Ooh, ooh, I know!” Riise said, waving his hand in the air enthusiastically, “You have to kiss the person who gave you the question!”

Harry, ever the slut, perked up immediately.

“WHAT?” Finns exploded.

“No!” Dan protested vehemently, his arm snaking around Fernando’s waist to keep him in place, in case he had any ideas.

“Jesus, Riise, where the hell did you get that rule?” Stevie demanded.

“That’s what we do in Norway, if you must know.” Riise rolled his eyes.

“Well, do we look Norwegian to you?” Dan snapped testily.

“Oh, just give Fernando a new truth or dare, for crying out loud,” Xabi said, kicking Harry impatiently.

Harry huffed but his insides tingled at having Xabi joke around with him again. “Fine. Fernando, I dare you – ”

“Hey, don’t I get to choose?” Fernando interrupted.

“Uh, no, you lied.” Harry shook his head. “Liars don’t get perks.”

“Where are these new rules coming from?” Stevie threw his hands up in the air in disbelief.

“I dare you,” Harry repeated loudly to be heard over the Scouser’s endless muttering. He looked around the room for ideas. People.

Harry, for his part, honestly thought hard. The trouble with the game of Truth or Dare was that everyone knew the real questions and challenges that could have the boys on their knees and begging for mercy. But the problem with that was that it opened the floodgates to copious amounts of sex (which wasn’t bad) and copious amounts of drama (which wasn’t good) and it would never end. So, he had to strike a balance.

“You’re not going to dare me to have sex with Dan on your bed, are you?” Fernando asked nervously.

“Hey, I’m fine with that,” Dan smirked, sneaking a teasing kiss to the Spaniard’s ear, earning him a girly giggle. 

Harry fixed Fernando with a gaze, his mind was made up at last.

“I dare you to kiss Steve Finnan.”

“OH.” Dirk’s mouth was in a perfect little ‘o’ and his eyes were just as round.

“Oh. My god.” Stevie couldn’t even laugh out loud in shock.

“Oh, you’re so _naughty_ ,” Xabi grinned at Harry, which the Australian, of course, returned with a saucy wink. Stevie grunted warningly.

Finns was absolutely pale as his eyes wandered over everyone’s excited expressions. If there was anyone in the group he was least, least, _absolutely least_ close to, it had to be Fernando.

“You’re going to get it tonight,” Finns jabbed his finger against Harry’s cheek, but the Australian only beamed proudly.

“Come on, Finns. It’s just one dare.” Harry urged him, “Kiss him for, say, ten seconds.”

Finns’ jaw dropped. “What? Can’t I just give him a smack?”

“Sure,” Arbeloa shrugged nonchalantly. “A smack _on the tongue_.” Then he rolled around the carpet laughing at his own joke. Everyone else in the vicinity watched him strangely save for Yossi who looked like he wanted to giggle at the pun but wasn’t allowed to.

“Kiss Fernando like you would kiss Harry!” Xabi volunteered to the Irishman.

“Now, don’t sound so excited to know how I kiss Finns,” Harry said, smirking at the Basque. Xabi looked away immediately, but his cheeks were pink.

“You know, when I get my turn, I’m going to dare Harry to shut his mouth for the entire game,” Stevie said loudly, glaring at the Australian.

“Anyway!” Fernando cut them all off. He glanced at Finns, burying down the rising embarrassment in his gut, “Are we doing this or what?”

Finns bit his lip but nodded. He stood up and leaned over across the tables. Before doing the same, Fernando grabbed Dan’s collar and warned possessively, “You better have your eyes on _me_.”

Dan nodded vehemently, “Only on you.”

Stevie whistled, “Wow, Fernando, since when’d you get to be the top in your relationship?”

Dan glared at Stevie, “Since when did you care?”

Arbeloa swatted Stevie’s shoulder, “Shush, Stevie. You know what they say, life is like a wheel” – the Scouser stared at him dumbly – “Sometimes you’re top, sometimes you’re bottom.”

“WHAT?”

“Who the fuck says that?” Riise demanded.

“Yossi does,” Arbeloa grinned proudly.

Yossi blinked innocently, “What, was I... was I wrong?”

The boys looked at each other unsurely. Sami sighed and slung his arms around the Israeli’s bony shoulders. “Yossi, we need to have a talk.”

“CAN WE GET ON WITH KISSING PLEASE?” Stevie demanded, slamming his fists on his knees like a kid impatiently waiting for his meal.

“Oh. My god.” And that sounded so pre-pubescent, they would have all been shocked to know it was Dan, but it did the job as they all whirled around in time to see Fernando cupping Finns’ strong jaw and closing in. Then, when they were a few centimetres away, Finns suddenly closed the distance in one go, kissing Fernando fiercely on the lips, and taking everyone, including the Spaniard, by surprise.

Alvaro was the first to screech out laughing. “Oh, I bet this is the stuff of Danny’s wet dreams!”

Dan flipped him the bird, but his eyes were undeniably stuck on the two kissing boys.

“One... two...” Harry counted very, very slowly.

“Three... 3.5...” Kuyt continued teasingly.

“They’ll want a threesome now!” Stevie hooted. Fernando broke away from Finns just to glare at the Scouser. He was also going to tell him to fuck off because he was not going to share Daniel thanks very much, but Finns had already roughly pulled him by the chin and back into another deep kiss.

“Oh, yeah. You go, Finns,” Harry goaded.

Fernando bristled inside. He would be damned if he lost this battle. Acting as naturally as he could, he raised his hand and gently ran his fingers along the Irishman’s neck, before raking it upwards to his hair and combing at it sensually. Dan _lived_ for that stuff.

Finns must have liked it cos he pressed deeper into the kiss and slipped his tongue easily into Fernando’s mouth. Fernando, for his part, didn’t really stop him. The boys cheered even more. In principle, he was against this dare. But it wasn’t bad at all.

“Eight...” Dirk counted again, taking his sweet time, “Nine... 9.5... 9.75...”

But Dan cut him off, “Alright, it’s ten already!” From a certain angle where he couldn’t see Finns’ features, his gut churned at having another guy make out with Fernando so ostentatiously. Oh, and also, the erection forming in his trousers was getting kind of uncomfortable too.

Fernando was the first to break away – he refused to be the one left hanging. Finns opened his eyes slowly and grinned at the Spaniard.

Riise whistled. “Now, that’s what I call ‘kiss and make up’!”

Sami nudged Dan with his elbow, “I bet Dan’s made-up.”

Finns took his seat next to Harry again and the Australian immediately slung his arm around his shoulders. “Babe, that was beyond hot.” Finns smiled shyly, coming down from his high and realising what he had just been convinced to do.

“I can’t believe I just did that,” Finns said, shaking his head and laughing dazedly to himself. But Harry just kept beaming at him proudly, kissing him quickly on his still damp lips, “I couldn’t believe it either. I don’t think no one could believe it.”

While they were jubilant, however, the other couple was anything but. Fernando plopped back down on his seat, too self-conscious to glance at Dan. The defender took his hand under the table and squeezed it tightly. Fernando looked up – the question was written all over his unsure expression before he even asked, “Well?”

Dan shook his head and nodded and kind of raised his hands in a vague gesture. He didn’t really know what to answer that that wouldn’t spark off a possible argument. Fernando’s face fell and he took a swig of his Bailey’s instead.

Dan scooted closer and tugged Fernando to him. “Baby.”

And by the way Fernando felt Dan’s hands clinging to him too fiercely, pulling him to his body too closely, he knew Dan was turned on.

“Yes?” Fernando asked, stifling the smirk on his face.

“I’m not going to lie. That was... an impressive public display of affection.” Dan summed up. Fernando’s gaze darkened slightly, but Dan finished smoothly, “But I think you should stick to kissing me, hmm?”

Fernando broke into an embarrassed, flattered grin, but he nodded anyway. Dan dug his nails deeper along Fernando’s side and pressed a lingering kiss to his neck. The striker giggled at the tickling sensation and he hit Dan’s arm. “Take it easy. You’re still going to have to earn that after ogling Finns.”


	2. We're one mistake from being together

“We’ll wait for you in Sami’s van, Carra,” Stevie instructed to his vice-captain, surveying his more than buzzed teammates getting friskier and rowdier by the minute. He wasn’t really any better, as the beer bubbled happily in his stomach, but someone had to assume some level of control over the squad.

Carra nodded, wiping the table where Alvaro just spilled half of Dirk’s drink, “You’d better or I’m going to get fired from my job.”

Sami stood up too, sensing the trouble starting to brew, “Yep, I think it’s time to call it a night, boys!” He bellowed to the younger players, clapping his hands to get their attention.

Fernando looked up at the towering Finn with a little pout, “Are we going back to Carra’s already?”

Sami nodded, hoisting Yossi and Dirk to their feet. Dirk squealed happily, “Yay, I love team sleepovers!”

Finns stood up as well, more than a little wobbly but managing. “I guess we’ll go ahead, then,” the Irishman started, grinning sheepishly.

Dan demanded immediately, “You aren’t sleeping over at Carra’s with the rest of us?”

Finns shifted his weight from foot to foot, as he mumbled a shy response to his best friend, “Since Fernando’s staying out, Harry and I just thought maybe I could stay the night at his dorm room, for once.”

Dan raised an eyebrow and appraised the Australian suspiciously. Harry, on the other hand, was still ever the tactless one – most especially when he’s drunk.

“Why don’t you two,” he gestured uncoordinatedly at Dan and Finns, “Fix this little lovers’ quarrel first?” Dan felt Fernando become frigid at his side. Harry stood up and placed a peck on Finns’ cheek, continuing, “I’ll just go and take a leak then we can leave after.” He glanced at Finns, “That is, of course, if you still want to leave with me.”

Finns glared at Dan as Harry stumbled away, but Dan just glared back in return.

Fernando glanced at the two of them and groaned in frustration. He shoved away from Dan, spinning on his heel to leave and calling after the others, “Sami, wait up, I’ll ride in your van!”

Xabi, on the other hand, was by the bar, asking for a glass of water to clear his head, when the captains started trying to reassemble everyone and hustle them to the car outside. He was waiting for the barman when he noticed Harry breaking away and heading to the loo by himself.

It crossed his mind so casually – maybe he should talk to Harry. Then his heart started going into a palpitating fit just at the thought of it.

He was just going to talk to him. They were friends. Friends talked to each other, right?

His fingers started drumming the wooden top of the bar frantically, as he tried to weigh it out in his head. And he had to decide soon because Harry had already slipped into the bathroom. If Xabi didn’t go now, he could only bump into Harry by the time he was outside and by then, everyone would be able to see them and... and nobody should see them.

Checking their group of tables one more time to make sure everyone – or at least Stevie – was busy, Xabi leapt off his barstool and headed swiftly towards the bathroom, the bartender calling after him angrily with the drink he ordered. But right now, Xabi had a one-track mind and that mind was telling him to get into the loo as quickly as possible and –

“Oh!” Xabi let out a little cry of surprise as he yanked open the door the same time Harry pushed it.

Harry’s jaw dropped in shock as well, then he froze, as if torn between leaving first and taking a step back to let Xabi pass. Their hands were both still tightly wrapped around the doorknobs on either side of the entryway.

“Harry,” Xabi whispered breathlessly, his heart speeding up nervously again. 

The Australian nodded once, before saying curtly, “Excuse me.”

But Xabi took a deliberate step forward, “Wait.” He saw the conflicted look in Harry’s eyes but he rallied on, “We should talk.”

Harry laughed weakly, disbelievingly, “Uh, no. I don’t think we should.” He tried to pass again, but the Basque still firmly stood in his way.

“Please.” He said, more softly this time. When he took another cautious step into the loo, Harry let him.

“So?”

Xabi felt his throat constrict at the deadpan, unfeeling tone to Harry’s voice. “I-I just...” he wrung his hands together nervously.

The door banged against the wall as someone entered the men’s room as well, and the two absolutely jumped in their skins in fear. When Harry, who was facing the door, finally got to see the man’s face, he sighed in relief.

“It’s a stranger,” he told Xabi. “You have... we have nothing to worry about.” He watched the Basque’s beautiful features relax and he wondered why they had to keep hiding until now.

Xabi took a deep breath, tone dropping as he self-consciously eyed the man who had walked to the urinals. He continued, “Harry, what are we?”

Harry felt like he had been socked in the stomach, the wind knocked out of his pipes. Oh, no. No, no, no. Xabi did not get to ask him questions like those, like he hadn’t put him through hell and back before. Irritation reignited in his gut.

“No, I have a question,” Harry answered, and he saw the way Xabi’s eyes flick uncertainly at the edge in the Australian’s reply.

“Did you mean what you told Stevie during the dare?” Harry asked plainly, forehead furrowed and eyes blazing.

Xabi couldn’t help babbling – maybe because he didn’t understand where this was going, and maybe because... he actually did.

“I – uh...” He coughed and coughed until Harry actually wondered if he was in a wheezing fit. “Yes?” Xabi managed to choke out, but he cleared his throat and answered more resolutely, “Yeah, I did.”

Harry took a few deep breaths to steady himself but he felt like the bile only rose higher up his throat. For a few scary seconds, he felt like he was going to be sick.

“Then,” Harry finished with a tight smile, “we’re nothing.”

He could see the way Xabi’s face crumple, and he felt slightly vindicated.

“We can’t be nothing.” Xabi murmured helplessly, “What, we should just ignore each other from here on end? We’re friends, Harry!”

Harry was frigid. He stared straight ahead at the tiles of the bathroom walls as he finished, “I don’t think we can be just friends.” Xabi was already starting to shake his head, but Harry cut him off, the harsh tone in his voice faltering, “Ever since I met you, all I’ve been trying to do is be with you.”

Xabi’s eyes were squinted and glassy now. His voice was thick with repressed emotion as he demanded, “So, that’s just it?”

Harry nodded his head in resignation, “Yeah, Xabi. Sometimes, friendships just end.”

*

“You alright there, Nando?” Sami asked, peering at the Spaniard through the rearview mirror. The boy was sitting in the back row of the van, squeezed into a corner by himself as a couple of them waited for their other teammates to stop dawdling by the pub entrance and pile into the car already.

Fernando looked up distractedly, before locating Sami in the driving seat. He smiled faintly, “Yeah, my head’s just killing me.”

Then, he leaned his head against the window again and looked outside, a small frown returning to his lips. Sami glanced questioningly at Dirk, who was sitting on the first row with Riise. The two just both shrugged.

“You can move here in front, if you want. It won’t be as cramped,” Sami offered.

Fernando declined politely, “That’s okay. I know Carra always wants to be the one who rides shotgun.”

Sami turned around and winked at the Spaniard, “I’m sure we can make an exception just this time.”

But Fernando was already peering outside to where most of their other friends were making their way back to the car. Stevie was the first to enter, drunkenly throwing himself in the first row, squishing a yelping and laughing Dirky and Riise. Xabi followed behind him, strangely sombre and quiet. 

Alvaro and Yossi were already climbing up the van to take their seats beside Fernando in the back row when Daniel stopped them both and tutted crisply. He jutted his thumb to motion behind him, signalling at the two to get out of the way.

“Me first.” He said, glancing uncertainly at Fernando. Fernando didn’t protest.

“All in?” Carra asked loudly, as with protocol, being the last in the pack to check everyone was complete. Everyone said yes in various states of drunkenness, and Riise hollering a panicky “NO!” just to spite the vice-captain. Carra flipped him the bird before pulling his seatbelt over him. He nodded at Sami and gave him a thumbs-up.

“All engines go, Sami.”

*

Finns couldn’t suppress the excited giggle that left his lips.

Harry looked up from tipsily figuring out which of the many keys in his key ring opened his dorm room. “Did you just _giggle_?”

Finns pursed his lips but his cheeks were shaking. “No.”

Harry put his hands on his hips, key dangling on doorknob. “Stephen.”

“Fuck off,” Finns shoved him giddily as he twisted the key himself. The lock clicked open loudly. He beamed at the Australian triumphantly.

“What is up with you?” Harry asked, laughing, as Finns threw open the door and bounded into the dark room. Harry shook his head and switched on the lights before the Irishman ran into something and hurt himself.

“I’ve always wanted to go home to your place, you know,” Finns said coyly, roaming the room with wide eyes. He hasn’t been here for the longest time. He let his hands run over the desks, the abused coffeemaker, the stacks of clean laundry still not put away.

Harry smiled endearingly. “And we won’t have that many chances of doing this again when we move out to university soon.”

Finns shared his nostalgic, rueful grin. The future was something too vague to talk about, and especially not in the open relationship they shared. But they knew their places either way, and there was nothing wrong in saying they would miss each other terribly.

“Come here,” Finns said, sitting on Harry’s bed. He loved Harry’s bed. It was always neat and well-arranged with plump pillows and a cushy blanket you could get lost under. And it smelled like Harry. Finns also liked to think it smelled faintly like him and not any of the other boys and girls Harry could have taken home that week.

Harry sat next to him and cupped the Irishman’s face in his hands. “You’re so adorable, baby.” He kissed him on the lips softly. Finns blushed and kissed Harry back, taking his bottom lip between his mouth and suckling gently. Harry moaned appreciatively into the liplock. Finns took that as a sign to go further. He reached up to pop the top button of Harry’s shirt, deepening their kiss at the same time. But, Harry gently pulled Finns’ hands away and slowed down their kissing into a light, gradual meeting between damp mouths.

Finns whined, “Harry, we could be fucking right now.”

Harry laughed and pulled away a few centimetres. “We’ve got all night, there’s no need to hurry.” He kissed Finns’ pouting lips sweetly, “Besides, I happen to enjoy kissing you.”

He punched Harry’s shoulder, “What’s your point?”

Harry laughed. He wasn’t lying. In fact, he was kind of embarrassed at his admission. But Finns’ lips were so soft and yielding and just forceful at the right times and they actually established a pretty good, compatible rhythm. Harry secretly thought the Irishman took kissing on a more intimate level.

“Don’t take it the wrong way. You actually make me like foreplay.”

Finns was stunned but he smiled after the words sunk in, impressed. He kissed Harry’s cheek while he caressed the other, “Really, now.”

“Yes,” Harry grinned, closing his eyes as Finns pressed their mouths together again, tilting his head to the side so he could move in deeper, closer.

“I bet Fernando also thought the same thing earlier when we were kissing,” Finns chuckled when they paused to catch their breaths.

Harry yanked Finns to meet his searching lips again, kissing him more fiercely and fervently. He moaned, “Don’t give me that visual.”

“You enjoyed that, hmm?” Finns joked against Harry’s hot mouth. The Australian could only pant out what seemed like a yes, and he settled for licking the side of Finns’ neck instead.

“You taste so good and you smell...” Harry nuzzled against the Irishman’s pulse, “Like a brewery.”

Finns was jolted out of the romantic mood abruptly, “Harry!” He shoved the laughing boy playfully until he fell on his back.

“I meant it in a good way!”

“Oh, thanks a lot,” Finns snapped, pretending to be offended as Harry laid on the mattress, pointing up at the Irishman and chuckling uncontrollably.

When Harry’s laughter finally quietened, he grinned sweetly at Finns, “If it’s any consolation, I’m sure we’re both reeking.”

Finns just harrumphed and crossed his arms tightly over his chest.

Harry shook his head and crawled up to where the boy was leaning on the pillows. “Finns,” he purred apologetically.

A small smile was beginning to spread on Finns’ face, but he pursed his lips and struggled to remain stern-looking.

“Baby, why don’t we just both take a quick shower and get ready for bed, hmm?” Harry said, returning back to placing sorry kisses along Finns’ marvellous jawline.

Finns just ever so slightly turned his face to the side to give Harry more access, “A good, hot bath does sound appealing.”

Harry added, “I even prepared a heated towel for you in the shower.”

Finns looked impressed as he teased, “You really like me, don’t you?”

Harry grinned impishly. “No, I’m just slick that way.”

Finns got up to his feet. “Now, we can’t let that go to waste, can we?” He asked, hands on his hips, glancing down at Harry who was still sprawled lazily on his back.

“I’m giving you first dibs on the bathroom?” Harry tried out his excuse, but he couldn’t stifle his loud yawn, letting his eyes slip close already. Finns yanked him up harshly to shake him awake. Harry pouted as he tiredly but obediently lumbered up.

“Now come on,” Finns said, giggling along with Harry as they stumbled their way across the room, “What kind of host would you be if you let me go to the bathroom by myself?”

*

Fernando hadn’t spoken the entire ride to Carra’s. Dan could feel the tension wafting off the striker in waves. It was thick in the air and you could cut it with the proverbial knife. But he didn’t want to push the issue. Not when Alvaro and Yossi were playing the car plate number game right next to him, Sami and Carra were talking loudly about Newcastle’s untimely relegation, and cheesy 80’s music was playing over the cackly radio. 

Just a row ahead of them, Xabi had dozed off in the van and his head lolled from side to side against the headrest and window. Sensing his discomfort, Stevie let Xabi lean on him and even patted his head as comfortingly. Xabi gave a lazy, lifeless grunt in response, and Dan saw Stevie smile to himself, blatantly and hopelessly still endeared.

Dan felt a pang in his heart and cast a sidelong glance at Fernando. The boy was still staring at the scenery outside, hugging himself tightly.

“Hey,” Dan spoke softly, he didn’t even know if Fernando heard it. He reached out to comb the bangs out of Fernando’s eyes, and that was only when the boy looked up, startled.

“Did you have fun tonight?” Dan asked, dipping his head so that only the striker could listen to him.

Fernando forced a smile on his face and nodded, but the Dane could see the emotions fighting for dominance in his unfocused gaze. Like he knew it was petty to be angry but that he couldn’t help but be hurt. And Dan hated having to walk on glass all the time, but he must be doing something wrong if Fernando always felt insecure around him and Finns. He sighed heavily.

Fernando bit his lip worriedly. He placed his hand on Dan’s leg. “I know,” he said, before looking away in embarrassment. “I’m just being stupid.”

Dan shifted in his seat so he could face Fernando more directly – Arbeloa yelped a pitiful and squished, “Stop squirming or you’ll have Yossi flat up against the window!” but he ignored it.

“You know he’s just my best friend...” He doesn’t mention his name anymore, in case.

“I know,” Fernando answered morosely.

“And you know he’s leaving soon, so maybe I’m just...” Dan trailed off and Fernando gazed at him curiously.

“Maybe you’re just?”

Dan replied, “I _am_ allowed to miss him, right?”

And seriously, how could he say no to that? Fernando nodded, but inside he felt literally and metaphorically trapped into a corner, like he wanted to push open the window or climb into the passenger seat with Sami or Carra. That felt like a safe spot.

He went back to staring outside, they had left the city centre by now and were entering the suburban areas leading to Bootle. It was early hours now and the car ride was quiet. Even Carra had piped down and Sami had returned to just driving. Alvaro and Yossi stopped their car games because it was too cramped to do anything else. Almost everyone was either quiet or asleep. Fernando suddenly wished Stevie heard their conversation so the captain could offer him some sort of guidance because Fernando was definitely making all the wrong moves here. But no such luck, Stevie was too enrapt with Xabi dozing off on his chest. For a moment there, they looked like the old Stevie and Xabi – happy and inch-perfect.

Fernando felt Dan shift next to him again, like he was about to speak up, reach out or most temptingly, kiss Fernando. So before Dan could move again, the Spaniard closed himself up, bringing up his knees to his chest and curling his arms around himself. He knew the argument was over – Dan was right and he was wrong and he had made the concession and justly so. And losing always felt like a sock to the stomach, so Fernando just leaned against the window and shut his eyes, pretending to sleep.

*

He first met Harry at lunchtime, in the middle of the cafeteria line. He didn’t know anyone else in his year who was Spanish, and he didn’t have any friends. And yet here was a guy who pushed his tray along behind him so closely, their knuckles grazed against each other’s. When he couldn’t pronounce the word in the menu – “f... fooj?” – and the cafeteria lady just glared at him impatiently, Harry swooped in and ordered him his fudge sundae from the dessert section. Paid for it too. Gave him a brilliant smile and said, “You can sit with me, if you want.”

Harry was a year above him – he had glanced from the badge of his school blazer. He walked confidently in the middle of the canteen and the people parted for him, waved hi to him, asked him how his summer went, reminded him of their next club meeting.

Rule #19, page 27 of the Student Handbook said that the uniform could, in no way, be tampered with. Regulation white button-down shirt over an undershirt, under the school blazer, topped off with a scarlet red necktie. Harry had a deep grey cardigan underneath his coat, though, and his shirt was stylishly half-untucked around his trousers. When he put down his tray, the tips of a tattoo circling wispily around his wrist could be seen just slightly beneath his shirt cuff.

In that short, thirty-second walk from cashier to lunch table, he decided Harry was everything he wanted to be – undeniably smart, ridiculously successful, extremely popular. Harry was It. And here he was sitting with the new boy with bad English.

“Harry Kewell,” he had smoothly introduced himself.

“I-I’m Xabi Alonso,” he had replied clumsily.

“And what do you do, Xabi Alonso?”

“I used to play football back in Real Sociedad.”

“Really now.”

“I play in midfield.”

“You should try out for the football team then.”

“N-no, I’m not... I’m not really any good.”

“Come on,” Harry had peered at Xabi over his, then winked playfully. “I’m in the squad.”

Xabi blushed and busied himself with unwrapping his straw. It took him three distracted, self-conscious tries before he could push it through the opening of his milk carton.

“I’ll think about it.” He had murmured, just to get Harry to stop gazing at him intently.

The lunch hour went by quickly – Harry pointed out the cliques and their designated tables in the canteen; he told Xabi about all the professors and the secret to their exams; he even promised Xabi he’d give his name to the locker manager to make sure he didn’t get assigned one of the pariah lockers everybody hated because they were a ten-minute brisk walk away, located in the dilapidated school annex.

Fifteen minutes from time, Harry stood up and apologised. He said he had to run because he had to go back to the school paper’s news office to make sure the year-opener issue arrived from the copiers already. Xabi just nodded, still mostly overwhelmed. Harry just smiled that wide sunny grin of his and Xabi pined so badly. It had been a cold, chilly few weeks and that smile just reminded him of the sunshine in Spain like Australia like Harry.

Harry gathered his things, balancing his school bag on one arm and preparing to bus his dirty tray on another. He was obviously in a hurry, but he did remember to place the cup of fudge sundae on Xabi’s tray, carefully centred over a little table napkin. It was only when Harry left that Xabi grinned to himself and took the ice cream. And then he saw a small scribble on the edge of the tissue, the ink slightly blurred by the ice cream cup’s moisture, but the handwriting still precise and balanced.

_“You owe me dessert – 07552059317.”_

*

“Xabi?” A voice murmured against his ear, and it took a while before it even registered in his head.

The images blurred in his mind before Xabi could stop them and when he blinked again, it was Sami and Carra and the van’s headlights illuminating the dark street where Carra’s house was.

“We’re here,” Stevie said, and Xabi could only grunt tiredly.

“Oh,” Stevie did a double-take. “I thought you were still asleep.”

“Something like that,” Xabi said, rubbing a crick in his neck as he straightened up. “But I think during the last few miles, I was just daydreaming. Or something.”

The van came to a crawl, then Sami carefully slotted into a cramped space between a wheely bin and a bike rack. 

Stevie smiled softly, “Did you sleep well, at least?”

Xabi lazily shook his head no. His nap only made his head throb even more. His eyes were heavy and his tongue was heavy but somehow, his heart weighed heavier.

*

Finns didn’t know Harry snored. Maybe because they never spent the night together, maybe because they were always too winded and went straight to sleep whenever they did share a bed. And Finns’ mum was very anal about these things – he remembered conversations in the dining table when she’d always pick a fight with his dad because he snored too loudly and she could never rest properly. She even threatened to sleep in a different room from then on.

His mum said snoring was the most annoying habit a man could have. But like all things in youth, Finns just thought snoring was actually kind of cute. Just like the way Harry absent-mindedly scratched his nose before burying his face in the pillows again, his hair flattened funnily on one side.

It was probably well past dawn already, and sleep was nagging persistently at the edges of Finns’ mind. But the still Irishman let himself mull in his thoughts.

Finns remembered the first time he was here. He had gone through Fernando’s things to look for anything that was in any way linked to Daniel, like a man on a mission. Harry had walked up to him and read his face like an open book, offered to fuck him thoroughly to make him forget the Danish boy. Finns laughed at the offer. And then, of course, ended up taking it. And he hasn’t looked back ever since.

Then the thought came to him suddenly. It was so non-sequitur, even Finns was caught off-guard.

Harry, in a way, had been his way of getting over Daniel. But more often than not, Harry was beginning to feel a lot like what Daniel had become to Finns – and he never did like anyone as much as he had come to like Dan. That sent the Irishman’s senses tingling. It sparked a blaze of warmth in his stomach but in the corner of his heart, a small pulse of fear too.

A faint beeping sound briefly distracted Finns. On the desk, a few metres away, their mobiles sat side by side. One was lighting up, and Finns stood up to check if it was his. When he got nearer, he saw it wasn’t. It was Harry’s phone which was ringing. And who the bloody hell would call anyone at this hour? Finns’ blood started churning as he wondered if it was somebody in school doing a routine booty call. And the idea that someone out there, at this very time, was thinking that Harry would be free, available and single at this hour – Finns was starting to get livid.

He was about to make his way back to bed, but that thought just positively rang in his ears with every step he took. Finally, Finns just couldn’t handle it anymore. He turned around and half-ran to the desk to check who the caller was.

_Xabi Alonso._

His entire body was numb, but his hands made no mistake as they took the phone from the tabletop and accepted the call. Finns didn’t know what he was doing. He was still in a state of shock, and even as he brought the phone to his ear, he couldn’t come up with anything to say. He didn’t even know if he should say anything to begin with.

It wasn’t really such a problem because Xabi wasn’t speaking on the other line either. All Finns could hear was white noise, static and... shallow breathing. As if the caller was nervous. Or anticipatory.

 _You’re not supposed to be calling Harry._ Finns wanted to accuse. But he couldn’t say that because he wasn’t supposed to be on this line either.

And Xabi just stayed on the phone just like that, just listening. And the Irishman didn’t expect this to feel so exposing... so intimate. So treacherous. Sharing a wordless conversation in the dead of the night.

Before he could lose his nerve, say something he might regret, break down into a fit, Finns cut the call and lifelessly let the phone drop back on the desk with trembling fingers. He stared at the mobile spitefully, his breathing coming in short, unsteady bursts now.

 _Harry, why is this... this boy calling you?_ He screamed out in his head.

Finns remembered why he hated likening Harry to Daniel – as much as he had fallen hard for the boy, he never did get to keep him in the end either. And Harry was always the person who was just drifting by the tips of Finns’ grasp, always teetering on the edge before Finns could clutch at him.

And you know how it felt like being the one left behind? It felt like shit. It felt like utter shit when he had to watch Dan wear his heart on his sleeve for the cliché of a boy that was Fernando. And he couldn’t believe these words could come off his lips so venomously now, but he was seething. Xabi... Xabi was not going to do the same to him.

The phone beeped again and Finns’ head swivelled to its direction so quickly, glare murderous and yet scared.

_1 new message._

Finns pressed the button:

_Harry, I know you said we couldn’t be friends again, but please, don’t ask me to do that. I really miss you.  
Sender: Xabi Alonso, 2:04 AM_

There was a long, long pause as the words just swam in front of Finns’ eyes. He could almost hear the patronising tone of Xabi’s Basque-English in his head, reading the message out loud.

And nobody really expected it when Finns made Dan sleep with him, especially when he knew his best friend was serious about dating Fernando. It just wasn’t like him to be that conniving. And Finns may not be thought of as a lot of things, but the one thing was, he always went down fighting.

Nobody would expect this also – Finns swiftly deleted Xabi’s message from the inbox, deleted the record of Xabi’s call from the registry. But it didn’t mean he couldn’t do it.

Finns turned around, watched Harry’s sleeping form on the bed for a second. The Australian’s mouth was slightly open, his blanket twisted along his calves, his hands clutched around the pillow Finns’ had been using. He probably wasn’t going to like this. If he found out.

*

Fernando had avoided Dan all night. When they got back to the house, he settled into the couch with Alvaro and Kuyt and started playing video games while everyone else unpacked their things and prepared to sleep. Dan spread out his sleeping bag and had to ward off Riise who was just about to lay down his things in the space beside the Dane. Hell no was anyone but Fernando sleeping beside him. Riise had snarled at him, of course, to which Dan had maturely snapped, “Fuck off.”

Fernando didn’t look like he had plans to unpack his things soon though. And he seemed to be delaying it deliberately, so Dan would have to give up the free space to others, and Fernando would have to sleep about five sleeping bags away, in one of the crummy left-behind spaces, like that one underneath the lampshade and that horrid one nearest the kitchen that always smelled of food.

Well, Dan wasn’t going to have any of that cleverness. And like a good house-husband, he set Fernando’s bed for him, right beside Dan’s. The Dane looked up at Fernando on the couch with a triumphant smirk, but Fernando just continued playing video games like his life depended on it.

Now, this was worrying. If Fernando was mad, he would have flipped out by now already. But tonight, he was just quiet. And that meant he was thinking – and that was much, much more worrying, Dan thought.

It was almost 4 AM by the time the boys started to turn in. Sami turned off the lights, and the boys reluctantly let go of their consoles and beers and porn and trudged to their sleeping bags. Dan removed the pillow he was holding over his face and watched as Fernando reluctantly tiptoed his way to his own bed. Their gazes met fleetingly, before Fernando crept under the covers of his own sleeping bag, laying on his side so he could face away from the defender.

Dan stared at the ceiling as he mulled it over. The room grew quieter and quieter and Dan started to get worried that Fernando might start falling asleep too. Dan didn’t really want either of them to go to bed mad – they had to settle this now.

Rolling over to his side, he reached out and tapped Fernando’s shoulder.

He didn’t even flinch.

Frowning, Dan tried again, tapping harder, to make sure Fernando couldn’t pretend to be sleeping.

Fernando shrugged him off now, turning his head just enough so Dan could see him mouth the words, “What?” – Not a snappy “what” or a tired “what.” Just an expecting-this-but-dreading-this kind of “what.”

Dan propped himself up on his elbow, “I just – ” His voice echoed loudly in the room, and Carra grumpily groaned, “Shush yourself!” Fernando flinched at the loud voice and his face read even more anxiety now.

Dan scooted as much as he could to the edge of his sleeping bag, closer so the Spaniard. He lay on his stomach, hovering over Fernando, so he could hear him as he whispered, “I just know something’s bothering you.”

Fernando brought his blanket up to his nose, as if he could hide under it. He shook his head shyly.

Dan tried to move closer again, but he couldn’t without beginning to slip into that crevice between both their sleeping bags. Fernando stifled a small giggle, before moving to make some space for him in his own bed, lifting the covers so Dan could slip in easily.

“Oof,” Dan grunted, as he half-rolled half-fell into Fernando’s sleeping bag, and they couldn’t fit in that small space without their limbs spilling out on either side of the bed. Finally, Dan just took matters into his own hands and gathered Fernando over him. It took them a few tries to get comfortable, but finally, the Spaniard rested on his chest like a baby.

“Are you going to tell me now?” Dan asked underneath his breath, fingers playing with the locks of Fernando’s hair absently.

Fernando shifted so he could glance up at Dan, “I’m just... worried.”

Dan’s forehead furrowed and he felt a tiny pang at his heart, hearing the dejected tone in Fernando’s voice.

“I think I’ve become the type of person you hate.” Fernando murmured, gnawing at his thumbnail. “Like, I’m... I’m needy and jealous. And, and clingy.”

He glanced at Dan worriedly, “Hell, I’ve become the type of person _I’d_ hate.”

Dan pushed the bangs out of Fernando’s eyes. “Why the bloody hell are you thinking like this?”

Fernando sighed and shrugged listlessly. “I can just feel it.” His hands searched for Dan’s under the blanket, and he clutched them tightly.

“I annoy you, don’t I?” The Spaniard whispered.

But Dan just laughed soundlessly before shaking his head. He brought their linked hands to his lips and kissed Fernando’s knuckles.

“You’ve long been annoying to me.”

Fernando’s contented grin suddenly contorted into a stunned scowl and he tried to snatch his hand back. Dan laughed even harder, his chuckles coming in high pitches now. Carra was going to cut a bitch any second if he woke up.

“Look,” Dan said, laughter subsiding. He glanced at Fernando serenely, “The only way I know I really like you is because I always find myself overlooking all the irritating things you do.” He shrugged to himself, “I don’t know what it is, but there _must be_ some bigger, more important thing than all your grating habits – or else I wouldn’t be here.”

The Spaniard blushed profusely, but it was dark so he risked it. They stayed there in silence, a crumpled, entangled heap. 

Finally, Fernando broke the trance and poked Dan’s side, “You didn’t really have to agree with me so passionately when I asked you if I was annoying.”

Dan tickled back, snorting, “I don’t lie.”

“SHHHHHHH!” Carra hissed again from his spot on the couch.

Fernando stifled a sheepish giggle. “Sorry, Carra.”

“For fuck’s sake,” the Scouser grumbled before loudly turning on to his side and pulling his blankets and pillows over his head.

Fernando saw Dan open his mouth to retort back but he clapped his hand over it in the nick of time.

“Let it go,” he warned the Dane softly. He could feel the defender frown underneath his palm.

Not removing his hand over Dan’s mouth, he turned his head to place a kiss on the middle of Dan’s chest. He glanced up to check Dan’s reaction, and his eyes were relaxed and his partially-covered smile was contented. Fernando bent closer to Dan’s body – it was dark but it was like he had the skin all mapped out. He trailed a series of kisses down Dan’s chest, before experimentally dipping his tongue into the Dane’s belly button. Dan grunted loudly – too loudly – against his hand.

“Shh,” Fernando said sternly, mockingly. Dan glared at him right back.

In a twisted sense of retaliation, Dan let his hands travel down Fernando’s body secretly. The Spaniard was too busy showering kisses on his abdomen to notice until it was too late.

Fernando gasped out loudly, it was a good thing he burrowed his face against Dan’s body, the sound muffled against skin.

Dan massaged his cock through his boxers and Fernando couldn’t even enjoy it properly. He struggled to rein himself in and shut out the sensations.

“Dan...” Fernando mewled, his expression pained.

Dan shifted away from Fernando’s grip on his mouth to taunt back, “Shh.”

Fernando pouted apologetically and Dan couldn’t stop himself from yanking the boy up so they could be face-to-face.

“You...” Dan shook his head at his incapability to put to words how... how puzzling and intriguing and tiring and, just, all-consuming Fernando was to him. He pushed their lips together and just kissed him for all it was worth. Fernando slumped pliantly in his arms, his weight heavy but welcome on Dan’s chest. And Fernando could never stop kissing Dan – his lips were soft and supple and intoxicating like the taste of beer and tar left behind.

“We could...” Dan trailed off, pulling Fernando up again so their bodies were completely aligned. His hands returned to their cocks and he started stroking both members lightly.

Fernando bit down the groan that was threatening to spill from his lips.

To their right, Alvaro was already snoring steadily.

To the left, Riise was slumped on his side so if he ever opened his eyes now, he was going to get an eyeful.

 _Wrong time, wrong time._ Those were the only words reverberating in his head now. Fernando shook his head as he panted out against Dan’s neck, “We shouldn’t.”

Dan would probably have followed Fernando’s request had the Spaniard not kept moving on top of him. His hips rolled in small circles, meeting Dan’s grip obediently. The sleeping bag rustled noisily underneath them.

Ahead of them, Stevie and Xabi were just gray, indistinguishable lumps in the dark, but Fernando could sense their movement. They were both still awake – they were both listening. Or watching.

“Eyes on me,” Dan reminded in short pants, and he adjusted his torso for emphasis so that their hips fell closer together, trapping their dicks even more tightly between their bodies. They continued frenetically, grinding against each other like two teenagers easily undone by a hint of friction and a dark room. 

Fernando gritted his teeth and buried his face in Dan’s hair, but that didn’t stop the moan that came from deep in his throat. Dan could have almost been caught off-guard at how loud Fernando was being, if he weren’t out of it as well.

“I’m coming,” Dan whispered softly like a little boy then Fernando slammed their lips together, so whatever noise they made, they could swallow. Dan curled his fingers around Fernando’s butt, before pressing him down on his leaking erection, hard. In a short burst of white behind his eyelids, Fernando felt the warm fluid spreading around his cock and staining his boxers and he couldn’t tell if that was his orgasm or Dan’s or theirs both.

For a long time, Dan couldn’t tell if it was over. The room was still dark but it was spinning and Arbeloa and Riise were snoring in almost perfect unison, it hummed in his brain. The only other thing was that Fernando had stopped humping his body against his – the boy just slumped tiredly over him, his slim frame slick with sweat and sliding in a perfect mould over Dan’s.

“All better now?” Dan murmured tiredly, his eyes already slipping closed.

Fernando smiled to himself, pressing his nose against Dan’s sweaty cheek. “All better.”


	3. My heart beats too big

“Will you remember me when you go away to college?” Finns asked quietly.

They lay side by side or one atop the other on Harry’s bed the next morning. Harry was still somewhere in between asleep and barely waking up. Finns was wide awake and pensive, the way people always were in the first moments of morning.

“What kind of question is that?” Harry mumbled sleepily, “Of course, I will.”

“No, I mean.” Finns pulled himself up so he could lay his head on Harry’s bare chest, “Will you just remember me as one of the many boys you shagged?”

Harry snickered softly. “I shagged too many boys to remember them all.”

Finns gasped and slapped the Australian’s stomach. “Harry!”

Harry laughed, getting more awake and sentient now. “What?”

“Stop kidding.” Finns said with a pout, although he knew Harry couldn’t see it. He let himself enjoy the rising and falling of Harry’s chest as he took long, leisurely breaths.

Harry reached down to mindlessly play with Finns’ short hair. “There are too many nameless boys and girls who shared my bed all throughout high school.” He playfully tugged at Finns’ ear to catch his attention. “But, you’re not a nameless boy, are you?”

The Irishman’s cheeks grew warm and he buried his face against the soft, pliant skin of Harry’s tummy. “I hate you.”

“Why are you asking these questions?” Harry asked, yawning.

Finns shrugged. “I don’t know.” He clambered up to his elbows so he could face Harry. “I know we both just kind of... fell into this... thing. And it was meant to be a temporary thing because we were both coming from fucked-up non-relationships before that. But.”

“But...?” Harry prodded, sitting up straighter against his pillows now. “Are we having The Relationship Talk now?”

Finns giggled a bit, “No, we can leave that to Dan and Fernando. But.”

Harry raised his eyebrows expectantly. Finns smiled at the genuine concern in the Australian’s still-foggy eyes.

“But I just want to know how... important I am. I mean, just so I can set reasonable expectations. So, maybe I can prepare myself, say, in case you run off with a new nameless boy in the near future.” Finns trailed off, not wanting to look at Harry anymore. He slumped down beside him again and just stared at the bookshelf in front of them.

Harry was quiet for a long time, and Finns tried to let his mind wander by guessing how many porn magazines were stuffed in between biology books in the shelf that stood at the corner of the dorm room.

Finally, Harry spoke up. “There’s no one else, okay? I’m not going to run off with any new ‘nameless boys’” – Harry made mocking quotation marks in the air – “in the near future. Do you hear me?”

Finns blushed even more, and he was embarrassed now. But he needed to ask just one more question to be sure.

“...Is Xabi a nameless boy?”

He thought he felt Harry go tense right next to him. But just as quickly as it came, the frigidness disappeared as well.

Harry pulled Finns closer to him and pressed a kiss on his wrinkled forehead.

“Who’s Xabi?” He asked.

*

Fernando woke up to the sensation of soft, dry lips pressing faint kisses against his cheek, his jaw, his temple.

“Mfzh,” he grunted because that was the most his sleep-addled brain could come up with. A husky voice registered hoarsely against his ear though –

“Morning, sunshine.”

A faint flutter tickled Fernando’s insides, even as his body was dulled by sleep. He loved waking up next to Daniel. It didn’t ever happen enough.

“Sleep well?” Fernando murmured to the defender when he was finally able to wedge his eyes at least halfway open.

And Dan just grinned like a cat that got the cream which he sort of was. “Sure as hell, I did.”

Fernando smiled lazily too. “Remind me again why we don’t do this often?”

“Which part? The sex or the morning after?” Dan joked, pulling the Spaniard close to his chest again – Fernando must have rolled away during the night. Their bodies were cool to the touch against each other.

“The morning after,” Fernando said, nuzzling his face against the crook of Dan’s shoulder. “You’re so warm.”

“Well,” Dan stared at the ceiling, trying hard to stifle the chuckle rising in his chest as Fernando’s hair tickled at his neck. “For one, you have a pervert of a roommate that, no, I will not allow to watch us, much less participate with us.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“And, I have a very strict mother who would not approve of our late-night activities,” Dan finished.

“We could hide.”

“You’re too loud and I’m too rough, so it would never work.”

Fernando’s cheeks burned bright red, “I’m not that loud.” But his bottom lip quivered as he struggled to keep himself from bursting out laughing.

Dan shook his head and placed a giddy kiss on the tip of Fernando’s nose. “You’re cute.”

And dammit, this was so high school but Fernando’s heart skipped a beat or five.

Dan was hardly an expressive boy, and the fact that they rarely had a moment just to themselves didn’t really coax Daniel to open up either. Pepe used to joke that the only way he knew Dan liked Fernando was because he always stood next to him in a group, and he snarled a little less when he was around the striker. It was all very romantic.

The Spaniard buried his face in Dan’s neck and breathed in his day-old scent of beer and cigarettes.

“Come here,” Daniel said, even though they were already crammed in an all-too small sleeping bag. He wrapped his arms around Fernando and squeezed him tightly.

Fernando giggled, “Dude, I can feel your morning hard-on, you know.”

Dan laughed before wrapping Fernando’s leg around his hip. “That’s okay. I wasn’t trying to hide it.”

Fernando moaned at the back of his throat, his eyes fluttering closed. Dan felt so hard and... thick underneath his boxers. The flesh stirred against his thigh.

“So early?” Fernando asked innocently, and Dan smiled with mischief gleaming in his eye. He dipped his head down and captured Fernando’s lips into a kiss. They felt the way they always felt: succulent and wet and slick between his teeth. He pushed in deeper to suck on the bottom lip more.

Dan broke away, then brushed Fernando’s unruly bangs from his eyes. “I think this just might be the perfect way to start the day.”

Then, Dan’s mobile rang shrilly.

So much for perfect, Fernando thought wryly.

Dan sighed loudly, before rooting around the sleeping bag and the floor to find where his mobile could have fallen. While he was scavenging, Fernando was already thinking: In what instances could Fernando forgive Dan for taking this call?

He came up with only two answers. First, if it was Daniel’s mom calling. Second, if it was Rafa calling.

Dan finally found his mobile while it rang insistently. He peered at the screen, then gave Fernando an apologetic glance.

Fernando steeled himself.

“Hello, Finns.”

Finns was not included in that two-person list.

Fernando frowned. Dan held up his palm. “Five minutes,” he mouthed.

Sighing, the striker shook his head and sat up. “Call me when you’re done.”

He didn’t mean to sound so spiteful, but now his good mood was ruined. He wriggled out of the cramped sleeping bag and rolled over to the floor. He thought of bunking in his own sleeping bag, but as inviting as it looked, he wasn’t feeling very peaceful and relaxed now either.

So, he just stood up and left.

*

“This had better be urgent,” Dan warned.

“Cranky?” Finns teased, and Dan huffed in reply. He wasn’t cranky ten seconds ago when he was about to get a good morning blowjob. Now, he was.

“We were kind of in the middle of something.”

He could imagine Finns rolling his eyes. “You and Fernando do nothing but shag each other.”

“Oh, and I suppose you and Harry stayed up all night holding meaningful conversations, didn’t you?” Dan shot back.

Finns sighed on the other end of the line. “Actually, that’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Dan sighed too. The duty of a best friend was to choose a counselling session over a fucking one. “What’s wrong now?”

There was a lot of rustling and banging before Finns finally spoke again. “I did something bad.”

“What is it? And are you still at Harry’s?”

“Yeah,” the Irishman answered in a hushed voice, “Harry’s in the bathroom taking a shower, I’m here outside in the hallway. I told him I had to call my mum for a minute.”

Dan raised an eyebrow. “That bad?”

“You judge.”

“Spill.”

Finns dawdled before mumbling listlessly, “So, last night when Harry was asleep, someone kept calling him on his mobile. And I was going to ignore it, I really was. Except it was so noisy. So, I stood up to check it out, you know? Maybe if it was important, I could wake Harry. If not, I was just going to put the phone on silent.”

“Uh-huh, and then?” Dan asked, his forehead wrinkling as he took in all the details.

“Well, it was Xabi.”

Dan gasped. “No shit.”

“Yes!” Finns cried exasperatedly, almost relieved he had someone who could relate to the problem. 

Dan craned his neck to check on Xabi who was still sound asleep with the blankets covering half his head.

“What did you do?”

Finns didn’t answer for a long time. Then he sheepishly whispered. “I took the call.”

“STEPHEN FINNAN!”

“SHHH!” Riise hissed angrily, pressing his pillow over his ear to muffle out Dan.

“Nothing big happened, okay?” Finns snapped back defensively. “Xabi didn’t say anything. He was just quiet, breathing deeply. As if waiting for Harry to say the first word.”

“And when ‘Harry’ didn’t speak up?”

“Nothing! He just waited and waited. Which is freaking me out, because that means Xabi’s at this point where it’s comfortable for him and Harry to be on the phone to each other _not talking_.”

“You. You are delusional.”

“But you get my point.”

Dan rolled his eyes, “Yes, I do.”

“And then, when I hung up, Xabi sent Harry a message.”

“And of course, you read it.” Dan said wryly.

“Say it louder, why don’t you. So Xabi can hear you,” Finns yelled hysterically.

“But I’m right.” Dan didn’t even have to say it like it was a question.

Finns was quiet for the second time in their conversation. For a long moment, they both just let the truth sink in.

“So, what did the message say?” Dan couldn’t keep out the curiosity in his voice.

Finns was relieved when he answered. “Well, apparently, Harry told Xabi that he didn’t want to have anything to do with him anymore.”

Dan’s eyes were round and he sounded genuinely appreciative when he cooed, “Wow. That sounds great for you!”

“Yeah, but Xabi is pleading with him. _Begging_ him for them to be friends again.”

Dan tried to reason out but Finns suddenly broke out into this warped rant.

“I mean, why does he even want that? And so _desperately_? And after the horrible break-up it caused him and Stevie?! He’s so not over him, IT MAKES ME SO ANGRY.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Dan said, trying to calm down his best friend. “Don’t freak out.”

“ _You’re not freaking out?_ ” Finns demanded, his voice turning pitchy already. “Is this not shocking?!”

Dan gulped as he tried to respond in the fairest way possible. “Uh. Yeah.” He coughed carefully, “It’s a little surprising. But... this is his business.”

He already heard Finns taking a deep breath, getting ready to shoot down his answer, but Dan hurriedly continued, “Finns, we can’t help it if Xa-” he paused to lower his tone, “Xabi thinks this way. He’s caught up, and it’s mental, but it’s his issue, not yours.”

Finns heaved a sigh, all his anger now deflating into irritation and early-morning crankiness. “So, what should I do now?” 

Dan was nonchalant. “It’s not like Harry feels the same way. Did he reply to the message? Since, I already know of your complete disregard for privacy, I’m assuming you’d know the answer.”

Finns was quiet for a third time, and Dan almost didn’t catch it when he squeaked.

“I... I deleted the message before Harry could read it.”

Dan could not drop his jaw low enough. He shouted in disbelief, “OH. NO. You didn’t! Steve Finnan!”

“For crying out loud, keep it down!” Sami growled and Sami never growled. That was how noisy Dan was being. In complete disregard of an entire squad of football players still asleep and hungover on a perfectly good Sunday morning.

“And I deleted Xabi’s call from the registry of Harry’s mobile too,” Finns moaned pitifully.

“Oh, Stephen...” Dan tsked, and Finns felt a flash of guilt for the first time since his deed. Dan always called him ‘Stephen’ when he wanted to sound like Finns’ mother. And right now, Finns was feeling like nothing but a child being reprimanded for a stupid mistake.

“Why?” Dan asked softly.

Finns was defensive and lonely and moping when he answered. “Look, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that Harry was once in love with Xabi too, you know.”

Dan felt his heart sink and Finns continued, “I just... didn’t want him to leave me if he knew that Xabi wanted him back again.”

“Finns, he’s not going to leave you.”

“You told me that too.”

A flash of irk sparked in Dan’s mood. “No, I didn’t. You were the one who asked for the time and space bullshit.”

Finns snapped, “Yeah, and you wandered straight into the arms of the nearest boy, didn’t you?”

Dan groaned and rubbed his temples. He knew Finns was just coursing all his irritation at him and it was nothing personal, but still. “Look, you can’t keep yanking on that chain forever.”

Finns huffed noisily. “Whatever. I’m just trying to make a point that I’m getting pretty sick and tired of being the odd one out.”

Dan felt his tensing neck and shoulder muscles relax just a tad. Finns sounded more manageable now. “Since when did you get so serious about Harry?” Dan asked, and it was a real question, not a swipe. “It’s not like he’s your boyfriend.”

Too bad Finns didn’t see it that way. There was a frustrated, indignant sound and Dan knew he pressed the wrong button right there. 

“Wow, I could ask you the same thing, Dan.” Finns bit back harshly, sarcastically, “Why haven’t you left Fernando yet? You keep insisting you’re not together anyway.”

Dan’s teeth gritted together. “That’s different.”

Finns continued goading, “Oh, yeah? How? What? You’re _in love_ with each other?”

Dan snarled. “At least I didn’t have sex with him just to get over someone!”

Finns laughed dryly. “At least, right now, Harry is in the shower waiting for me to join him.” His voice warped into a sickly sweet tone, “Where’s your boyfriend?”

Dan’s eyebrows knitted together and he scoffed loudly to send the message that the question was so irrelevant.

But when he did sit up and look around, Fernando was not beside him, nor was he in his own sleeping bag either. In fact, he was nowhere to be seen in the living room.

“I thought so.” Finns broke through the static.

“Fuck off!” Dan snapped, struggling to get out of the sheets to look for the Spaniard.

Finns laughed again. “Later, Dan. I’ll tell Harry you said hi.”

*

Fernando plodded out of the living room in a huff, eager to get away from the animated conversation between his not-so-boyfriend and his not-so-boyfriend’s not-so-best friend. He ended up wandering into the kitchen where he thought he heard voices.

True enough, when he got nearer, he saw Carra bent over and rustling through the fridge with Stevie sitting on the counter, eyes half-closed and mouth gaping open as he yawned loudly.

“Morning,” Fernando grumbled. The man of the house straightened up from behind the refrigerator door to check who arrived. When he saw the Spaniard, he snickered and shook his head.

“Good night last night?”

Fernando immediately blushed and the thought of Daniel – the same Daniel distracted with Finns right now – made his cheeks even hotter. He answered as noncommittally as he could: “Mmhmm.”

“Why are you here?” Stevie asked, scratching at his neck sleepily. “No pillow talk?”

Fernando frowned and looked down at the tiles. They were such a pretty, Easter Egg shade of green. 

“Fernando.”

The striker looked up at his captain and forced a smile. He shrugged nonchalantly, “Finns called, that’s all.”

For someone lethargic, Stevie did the best he could to drop his jaw and appear disbelieving. He cautiously peered over at Carra before speaking.

The defender noticed the awkwardness, and he waved his hands, “Don’t pay attention to me. Before you both came in, my only mission here in the kitchen was to prepare breakfast, not to listen in on fresh gossip.”

Fernando nodded at Stevie, as if to give him permission to divulge something that could be confidential. Stevie smiled at Carra as he pointedly started banging around jars of cheese spread and bringing out a carton of eggs.

“So, what happened?” Stevie prodded.

And whenever it was Stevie, Fernando always felt like the young boy in trouble running to his big brother for help. It was very liberating.

“Why does Daniel keep picking Finns over me? Is there some unwritten, cardinal rule to always pick the best friend over the... the...” Fernando trailed helplessly, his frustration growing even more at the fact that he couldn’t verbalize it.

“Over you,” Stevie supplied helpfully to cut off Fernando’s fit.

“Yes!” Fernando groaned, putting his hands on his hips and sticking out his bottom lip.

Stevie slouched and looked over at Carra. The older Scouser was shaking his head while bringing out pots and pans. “Don’t get me into this,” Carra warned, waving his spatula threateningly at the midfielder.

Fernando held up his arms, as if to demonstrate the fact – “See? Stevie, if you and Xabi were in the middle of a moment...”

“You mean, about to have sex.” Stevie pointed out flatly.

“No. Like, a _moment_.”

Stevie laughed mockingly, Carra snorted behind him too

The Spaniard glared and continued, “Daniel and I were just talking and... and cuddling... and...” he blushed horribly as he rambled, “And it was so sweet, for once! And, seriously, would you rather be in bed with me or on the phone with Carra and, say, he wanted to talk about the weather?”

Carra looked up from the stove. “Excuse me, I would never call Stevie to talk about the weather because I’m not retarded.”

“SEE?” Fernando thundered, throwing up his hands in the air. “I hate Finns.”

Stevie motioned the Spaniard to come closer to his perch on the counter. Fernando grudgingly walked over, and Stevie placed his hands on his shoulders, explaining, “Look, Nando, I think in your involvement in this love triangle, you just have to understand a couple of uncomfortable truths.”

Fernando bit his lip nervously but looked up at Stevie nonetheless.

“First, is that Finns will always be slightly obsessed with Daniel.” Stevie pointed out flatly. Carra flinched – he didn’t expect his friend to be so frank about it, but it was true. Finns took forever to warm up to a person. And Daniel, being Finns’ best friend, already speaks volumes about how much Finns has invested in their relationship.

“Second,” Stevie continued, “Is that Daniel will always have too much history with Finns to completely leave him behind.”

Fernando’s mood was getting darker by the second, so much so that Carra had to ask, “Is this supposed to make the kid feel better, Stevie?”

Stevie thought. “...No. But the truth will set you free.”

Fernando shrugged off his hands. “Okay, I hate you now too.”

Carra walked over to the counter too, his arms heaped with leftover food scrapped together to make a decent breakfast. He let them fall from his arms and on the marble top – a loaf of bread, half a stick of butter, a small pack of sausages, a jar of cheese spread and, strangely enough, a bar of chocolate.

“Well, we have to make do with what we have,” Carra said with a helpless shrug, “My mum hasn’t gone to the grocer’s yet.”

I can help you cook!” Stevie volunteered brightly, and suddenly, Carra hovered protectively over his hard-fought gathered food.

Fernando laughed uneasily as he regarded his captain with a little worry, “Um, maybe I can cook and you can... support me.”

Stevie's forehead wrinkled but Carra swooped in to add, “Yeah! I mean, you're always leading the pack anyway, Stevie, maybe this time you should let Fernando supervise.”

And then it dawned on the Scouser - Stevie placed his hands on his hips and scoffed. “Excuse me, but I know how to cook!”

Carra and Fernando burst out laughing.

“Oh, really? How?”

“I help out my mum!”

“Putting bread into the toaster doesn't count as cooking.”

“And why not? It's raw when you start, and when it pops out, it's golden.” Stevie snapped petulantly.

“Oh, Stevie,” Fernando said sympathetically, reaching out to pat the captain’s shoulder.

Stevie rolled his eyes at Carra, “What, you’re banning me from cooking but you’re letting _Fernando_ cook?”

Fernando stopped trying to comfort Stevie and shoved him away, “I am Spanish!”

“Oh, wow,” Stevie snapped sarcastically. “And I suppose every Spaniard is good in the kitchen.”

Fernando put his hands on his hips and retorted deviously, “Why, wasn’t Xabi?”

“I will have you know that Mikel was terrible in the kitchen.” And it troubled Stevie that he still felt that he was intimately part of the Alonso family.

Fernando snorted. “That’s _Mikel_. There’s one in every family.”

“Maybe you’re the bad one in your family.”

“I know how to cook rice! Do you know how to cook rice?”

“Who the fuck cares? Does it look like we’re going to be cooking rice today? No. So, there.”

Carra interrupted by banging his wooden spoon on a plastic bowl, “Okay, okay, cut it out!” He waved the spoon around warningly, “From now until serving time, you two are banned from my kitchen, _capische_?”

Fernando and Stevie stared at Carra with dropped jaws and wide eyes. The striker was the first to react by pointing an accusatory finger at Stevie, “But, he started it!”

Stevie, on the other hand, warned Carra sternly, wagging his finger in his face, “Close your eyes, lad. Fernando’s doing it. He’s starting to give you the pout so he can get what he wants. Close your eyes!”

Carra’s grip on his wooden spoon tightened by the second. Brandishing it in the air like a weapon – and he swore he was this close to giving each boy a whack on the head – he yelled out, “Out! Out, the both of you!”

*

Fernando and Stevie stood wordlessly on the porch, staring at their bare feet on the cold, scratchy wood of the floor.

“I didn’t think Carra would really throw us out.”

“What did you expect? He’s Carra. He has no restraint to speak of.”

Fernando huffed. “Well, what do we do now?”

It was a foggy day, and the neighbourhood was still quiet. It was a perfectly good Sunday morning, perfect for sleeping in. And it wasn’t like the boys had anywhere to go to either because they were still barefoot and shivering in their track bottoms.

“I claim the couch!” Stevie yelled out, avidly pointing at an overstuffed lazyboy, with the down in the cushions almost puffing out and restraining against their seams. It looked like it could swallow up anyone who dared sit on it. Naturally, the two boys raced to it as quickly as possible. And like on the pitch, Fernando practically exploded out of his starting blocks and ran towards the couch. But over a longer distance, Stevie’s inhuman sprinting speed allowed him to overtake the Spaniard and throw himself victoriously on the recliner.

Slowing down but not completely stopping, Fernando launched himself onto the couch too – even though it was approximately a one-seater. Stevie yelped as Fernando landed on him and they entangled into a mass of limbs and cold feet and puffy hair.

“Ow! Your elbow!” Stevie winced as Fernando stubbornly wedged himself in the tiny space left by the Scouser’s side. He tried to shove Fernando away, but he settled in a sideways sitting position, with his back leaning on Stevie’s side, and his long legs dangling over the arm of the couch.

“Victory!” Fernando giggled smugly, making himself comfortable, even though Stevie’s shoulder stuck irritatingly against his neck.

“Cheater,” Stevie muttered, trying to shove the Spaniard away but finally giving up and letting his full weight rest on him.

Fernando picked on the old fabric of the seat, tracing the dots where moths had eaten at it, “This is a disgusting couch. I love it.”

Stevie let his hand run over the fading corduroy of the cushions, “Yeah, Carra’s mum had long been trying to give this to the Salvation Army, but Carra and his dad won’t let her. The compromise was to keep it in the porch where she wouldn’t see it.”

Fernando laughed, relishing the cold morning breeze around them. He shivered in the air, but their cramped position on the couch warmed him up a little. “It’s like when you were 5 and you woke up early during weekends to snuggle in the couch with your brother and watch old cartoon reruns in your pajamas.”

Stevie smiled wistfully, looking at the overgrown garden, the purple wheelie bin that had the neighbourhood stray cat perched prettily on top and the rusty bike laying on its side almost hidden by the long grass. He filled his lungs with the morning air, “This is good.”

Fernando nodded, even though he knew Stevie couldn’t see. He could almost forget that Daniel was inside, talking to Finns. Almost.

“So,” Stevie asked absently, breaking the easy silence, “How was it?”

Fernando craned his neck to peer at the Scouser behind him, “How was what?”

Stevie shrugged and his shoulder dug at Fernando’s back even deeper. “Last night’s fuck.”

Fernando was alarmed for a second, until it clicked in his head that Stevie was asking about last night’s fuck _with Daniel_. And he may have told Stevie everything about Daniel in the same way that Stevie told him everything about Xabi... but for some strange reason, they never really did dwell on what the other did in bed. Not that Fernando was shy, it was just... new.

“You were awake?” Fernando asked, trying to steer the conversation to a different direction.

Stevie chuckled as he explained, “Yeah. I couldn’t sleep. Then, you and Dan got into a long confrontation.” He smiled and nudged Fernando teasingly, “I got curious, I _didn’t_ want to sleep.” 

Fernando blushed, burying his face in the throw pillow. Stevie continued, “Then, I started hearing things and I kept catching you both rustling in your sleeping bags. At that point, I knew I wasn’t going to get any sleep if I wanted to.”

“It was just you, though, right?”

Stevie shrugged – or at least, gave a one-shoulder shrug, because his other side was smushed under Fernando’s weight –“I think Xabi was up at that time, but he was just really quiet and kept to himself.”

Fernando frowned, “How are things going between the two of you?”

Stevie huffed. He hated being made to explain, “I don’t know.”

“Yeah, but Xabi wants you back, right? Why aren’t you taking up the offer?” Fernando asked. “It’s been a couple of months already.”

Stevie sighed again, then leaned his head against Fernando’s. “I just want us to be ready when we do get together again,” he mumbled against the tangle of blonde hair. “And so far, it hasn’t felt that way.”

Fernando felt his stomach sink for Stevie. “Why not?”

Stevie readjusted his position on the couch so he could face the Spaniard. “I just thought I knew Xabi when we were together. It turns out, I didn’t know him at all. Why would he go for someone like Harry? He’s nothing like Xabi.” He added distantly, “He’s... he’s nothing like me either.”

“But his involvement with Harry is over. Maybe it was just a phase.”

“Was it?” Stevie asked. “I could feel the tension between them last night, you know. Xabi may not be seeing him anymore, but the fact that there’s still something about Harry that makes Xabi sit up and take notice...” The Scouser trailed off softly, “I just want to know.”

Fernando reached out his hand and squeezed Stevie’s hand in reassurance. Stevie squeezed back.

“So, how do you plan to start getting to know Xabi again?” The Spaniard asked brightly to perk them both up.

Stevie laughed, “Well, I was planning to ask him out one of these days.”

Fernando beamed, “That’s so cute. I wish Dan and I went on dates.”

“But, you and Dan do go on dates!”

“No, we only go out so we have a prelude to sex. Like, we go to dinners out so we don’t get hungry in bed. We watch movies together so we can make out in the cinema. We go out for drinks so we can have a wilder fuck. It’s really the stuff of romantic movies.”

Stevie burst out laughing, “Christ, that’s pathetic!” Fernando pouted at him, but nodded. The Scouser slung an arm around the younger boy and consoled him, “Don’t worry. I’ll take you out one of these days.”

They rested together in contented silence, as behind them they heard Carra banging pans around the kitchen.

“You know what you and Xabi should do?” Fernando piped out of nowhere. Stevie grunted noncommittally as a sign for the Spaniard to go on. “You guys should do that thing they do in immigration, where they quiz the couples to make sure they’re not just marrying each other to get into the country.”

Stevie blinked very, very slowly.

“What?” He could barely echo out in his disbelief. He wondered if he had blacked-out and missed a huge part of the conversation that led to this nonsense.

“I saw it on HBO the other day.” Fernando pointed out nonchalantly.

Stevie was still staring at him, dumbfounded. Fernando rolled his eyes, “For example, what type of breakfast beverage do you drink? A. Coffee, b. Tea, C. Milk or D. Juice?”

“Okay,” Stevie answered slowly, trying to humour the Spaniard, “And your answer would be?”

Fernando snorted. “You’re a tea person, duh. Even I know that.”

Stevie chuckled, “You’re right.”

“Oh, I know, I know!” Fernando suddenly started bouncing in his seat like an excitable puppy. “You should have, like, curveball questions to throw Xabi off, like, ‘What colour of M&M’s would I eat first?’”

“But I don’t eat M&M’s!”

“Exactly!”

“This is insane, Torres.”

“This is important, Stevie. How will you and Xabi ever get to know each other?”

“How about if we do it by, say, _talking_. Like normal people.”

Fernando scoffed. “Everyday conversations are boring and don’t let you face real problem areas.” Stevie tried to protest but the striker brushed him off, “I have another question!”

Stevie sighed heavily, “Yes?”

“What do you wear under your jeans? A. Boxers, B. Briefs, C. Boxer briefs or D... er, nothing?”

“What? And how do you know the answer?”

“I don’t know the answer!” Fernando retorted defensively, his cheeks turning pink, “I just made up the question!”

Stevie didn’t even bother trying to hide the pervy smile that slowly spread across his face, “Uh-huh. Go on, why don’t you guess then?”

Fernando punched Stevie’s arm, “No!”

“Come on, Fernando, how will you ever get to know me?”

Fernando rolled his eyes, but hazarded a guess anyway, “Jesus, I don’t know. Maybe... boxers.”

Stevie wrinkled his nose, “No. I wear briefs, man. Classic.”

And the striker looked genuinely surprised. “Really? I always had you down as the freestyling, easygoing type.”

“Nah. It hurts when you just let it hang.”

Before he could stop it, Fernando snorted. Really loudly. And he didn’t really mean to let the comment slip out, but it just did.

“Dude, you can’t be _that_ big.”

But, Stevie just smirked. He answered without batting an eyelash, “Yeah, I am.”

“...No, you’re not.”

Stevie shook his head and for emphasis, he wrapped his hands around his package through the thin material of his track bottoms.

“Yeah, I am,” Stevie answered haughtily, gripping his crotch. Fernando’s eyes bulged out of its sockets at the captain’s brashness.

“What, don’t you check me out in the showers?” Stevie taunted.

“No!” Fernando’s face was turning bright red now. He squirmed to get out of Stevie’s way in the sofa, as he babbled, “T-that would be... embarrassing.”

“Too bad, you should.”

“So, you check out everyone else in the locker rooms?” Fernando asked hollowly, feeling flustered.

“Yeah,” Stevie said with an indifferent air. “Just to compare.”

Giggling self-consciously to himself and biting his lip unsurely, Fernando asked, “So, what do you think of mine?”

Stevie raised an eyebrow at Fernando and then shot him a mischievous, lopsided grin. “I’ve seen better.”

The look of utter shock and indignation in Fernando’s face quickly sent Stevie bursting with peals of laughter.

“Excuse me!” The Spaniard yelped out.

“Oh, come on,” Stevie teased, in between fits of laughter. He pinched Fernando’s side where he knew it would tickle, making Fernando yelp. The striker pursed his lips and stifled his giggles the best he could, but he could barely act mad.

Stevie batted his eyelashes, “I was just kidding!”

“Don’t touch me, I hate you!” Fernando thrashed against the Scouser as he tried to hug him in apology. But, Stevie wrapped his arms around Fernando’s waist to keep him in place, nuzzling his face on the side of Fernando’s neck where he knew he was particularly sensitive.

“Stevie! Stop it!” Fernando shrieked in between hysterical bouts of giggling and squirming. The more he tried to get away from Stevie’s tickling, the more the Scouser attacked, grabbing the boy wherever he could reach.

They were in a tangled heap by the time they saw Daniel. He kept a good few metres between them, but he stood still on the porch anyway, waiting for them to finish roughhousing.

Stevie was the first to notice him, before Fernando stopped as well, wondering why Stevie abruptly stopped playing around. He followed his gaze and saw the Dane, standing there, with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, shoulders tensed and raised.

“Carra told me I’d find you here,” Dan said, clearly addressing Fernando alone.

Stevie sat up and tried to assuage the defender’s doubts, “Carra threw us out of the kitchen because Fernando was being a pain in the ass with breakfast.”

Fernando chortled, briefly forgetting the tense atmosphere, “Excuse me, but the last time I checked, we got thrown out because you were a public safety hazard.”

Dan stared at them, eyes gazing one boy then another, stomach knotting at the easy, animated exchange between the two. Had it been any other day, he would have just joined them, forced his presence upon them and maybe snaked a possessive arm around Fernando just to remind Stevie who he belonged to.

But today, it was just him on a cold porch and a warm couch good for only one but cosy enough for two. There wasn’t any room for him, really.

So he just settled with saying, “We should go inside. Breakfast is almost ready.”

Exchanging wary glances, Stevie and Fernando reluctantly stood up and followed Dan back into the kitchen.


	4. What you can get away with

The television was cranked up to its full volume and dirty trainers were lying idly on the floor. That could only mean one thing: Stevie was at home and he had taken over the den.

“Hello, boys,” Stevie’s mum entered the room with a tray of sandwiches, “Enjoying the break?”

Stevie paused their game of Pro-Evolution Soccer and stood up to give his mother a kiss on the cheek, “Hi, mum. I just invited Nando over for some games, if you don’t mind.”

“No, of course not,” Stevie’s mum laughed easily, setting down the plates and tall glasses of orange juice.

“Good afternoon, Mrs Gerrard,” Fernando sat up immediately and smiled, suddenly embarrassed that he was acting so at home in somebody else’s house. When Stevie’s mother walked in, he had been draped across the sofa, one flip-flop on the floor, another dangling off his toe. Stevie had been lying down on the cushions strewn haplessly on the floor.

“Oh, come on, Nando,” Stevie’s mum is on nickname terms with him now, “Don’t you fuss. Stevie doesn’t bring home so many friends anymore, so you can take up all the space you want.”

Fernando laughed uneasily as he cast a glance at the Scouser. Stevie gave him a helpless grin in return. 

“Just tell me if you’re staying over for dinner, alright, Nando? Stevie alone can eat a cow and a half, so I’d better prepare if you’re eating here too,” Stevie’s mum kidded light-heartedly, as she disappeared into the kitchen a-humming.

Stevie bit his lip. “Sorry about that,” he explained sheepishly, studying the controller in his hands. “She’s just used to those times Xabi was here every day. She’s always eager to take care of my guests.”

Fernando nodded, “Oh,” he said under his breath. He traced the pattern of the upholstery absently, “I haven’t even met Daniel’s mother yet.”

Stevie’s eyebrows raised, his forehead wrinkling as usual. Fernando hurried to explain, “But, she’s just a very aloof type of woman. She prefers if we keep out of her way, and...” he shrugged, “And it’s not like I expect Daniel to introduce me to his family, because that would be crazy.”

“Anyway,” Stevie forced a bright, cheery grin on his face to stave away the heavy mood that settled in the room, “Guess what?”

“What?” Fernando asked, a small, amused smile spread on his lips as he felt relieved of the change in atmosphere.

Stevie bit his lip before exploding giddily, “I’m asking Xabi out. On a date.”

Fernando’s eyes widened, before he let out a – he couldn’t believe it – a high-pitched squeal.

Stevie had megawatt grin now, “This will be our first date since we broke up.”

“Are you nervous?” Fernando asked, hushed and curious.

The Scouser tossed his controller on the floor, videogames all but forgotten now. “Honestly? I’m shitting myself.”

Fernando patted him on the shoulder, “You’ll be fine. It’s nothing you haven’t done before.”

“Yeah,” Stevie sighed anxiously, “But it’s been so long, I’ve forgotten how I courted him the first time around.”

“ _Courted?_ ” Fernando snorted, “What is this, the 15th century?”

Stevie shook his head adamantly, “Dude, Xabi made me _work_ for it. It was a courtship.”

“No shit.”

“Yeah. I did it for a couple of months, just asking him out and wooing him over. Not to mention that he was still seeing Harry then, so it was twice as hard.” Stevie reclined back on the cushions on the carpet, arms folded behind his head as he reminisced.

“I waited for him by his locker in the morning, walked him to the bus stop after dismissal...” Stevie laughed to himself, “If I had time, I even walked him to all his classes.”

Fernando couldn’t stifle the giggles escaping from his lips. “Oh, god, that’s too adorable.”

“I was like a man possessed,” Stevie said, staring at the ceiling and smiling nostalgically. “It was like it was a call-up and I was fighting for a place in the team.”

Fernando rolled his eyes. “How romantic.”

Stevie sat up to look at the Spaniard, “Hell, yeah! During Xabi’s birthday, I was at his house by 5 in the morning so I could prepare breakfast in bed for him. I had to conspire with Mikel to let me in early, and I practised making waffles for a week.”

Fernando smirked and his tone was just a touch bitter. “I’m so jealous. During my birthday, Daniel treated me in McDonald’s after school.”

Stevie glanced at his friend sympathetically, but the Spaniard quickly waved his hand in the air dismissively. “Anyway, I don’t care.”

The Scouser gazed at him sceptically. Fernando busied himself with splitting the sandwiches between them as he explained reluctantly, “No, really. We talked about this before. I know Dan’s not the romantic type. We already agreed we would never be like you and Xabi.”

Stevie nodded slowly, taking a sip from his juice. “But, do you want to be?”

Fernando puffed and the air ruffled the bangs across his forehead. “I don’t know. Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like.” He offered Stevie an embarrassed smile, “It looks pretty fun.”

Stevie smiled back, “It is. So, you should talk to Daniel.”

Fernando didn’t reply to that. He couldn’t. He just encouraged his friend to continue, “So, what are you planning for the big date?”

And Stevie’s eyes positively lit up, and he tittered excitedly about borrowing his father’s car and reserving a table in Xabi’s favourite Japanese restaurant. He talked about bouquets of flowers and pastries for dessert. Fernando just smiled dutifully and cooed at all the right cues, nibbling at his sandwich to distract himself from the uneasy feeling settling in his stomach.

*

Xabi strolled the now empty hallways of Anfield High. And for the first time, he was able to stroll them aimlessly. It was unnervingly quiet – everyone was out on summer break, most of the foreign exchange students were out of town, graduating students were preparing to leave and new students were yet to enrol.

With so many people coming and going, Xabi couldn’t help but get caught in the middle. Being idle in the summer made him restless. It was great to get a rest during the first few weeks, but soon after he just felt... bored.

He swore if Carra called for another ‘team bonding,’ he would hurl. They would go to the cinemas, then the pub, then crash at someone’s place and wake up at noon and eat bad fish and chips for lunch. He was over this.

Which was why he was in school looking for a summer elective.

It wasn’t much cooler than hanging out with the squad, but at least it gave Xabi a tiny flutter of excitement. So, he was a dork.

He stopped in front of the Student Affairs bulletin board and scanned the list tacked on the cork.

 _Advanced Placement Literature._ Xabi wrinkled his nose and traced his finger further down the paper to scan for other options.

 _Advanced Placement Calculus._ Xabi’s stomach dropped. Studying Math during the summer wasn’t his idea of fun, but he almost really wanted to sign his name on the list. He could feel it in his gut – usually, the best students of the graduating batch taught these AP classes. And, no one was better at Calculus than – nevermind.

Next subject.

_Advanced Placement English._

Well, he was an editor in the school paper. Xabi didn’t want to risk it.

“A-ha!” Xabi whispered to himself triumphantly.

 _Advanced Placement Chemistry._ That sounded like a perfectly boring, perfectly safe class to take. Scanning the names in the list and seeing that he didn’t know anyone in the class – not anyone from the football team, that was sure – he fished his pen out of his jeans and signed his name swiftly.

“Mr Alonso!”

Xabi spun around and saw Ma’am Dolores on her way out of the Guidance Counselling room. He smiled politely and nodded in acknowledgment.

“Eager to get back to school again, huh?”

Xabi laughed and ran his hand through his hair bashfully, “I just signed up for one class.”

Ma’am Dolores nodded and proceeded to take the list from the board, “Just in time, we’re closing the sections today. Class starts tomorrow, alright?”

Xabi tried to rein in his excitement as he nodded.

“Are you finalising your plans for university already? Smart boy like you needs to go one of the famous ones, yes?”She asked, the wrinkles around her eyes folding even more as she smiled kindly.

Xabi shrugged, “I’m still keeping my options open.”

She continued, “Maybe you can go abroad! Our best students are going to the US for university. I think some of them are your friends. Mr Finnan and Mr Kewell, when I last checked the transfer papers.”

Xabi choked on his spit and started an embarrassing coughing fit. Ma’am Dolores had to pat his back in concern.

“I... No, I’m not. I mean, I haven’t... made plans to follow Stephen Finnan. Or, er, Harry... Harry Kewell.”

Ma’am Dolores slowly nodded, “Alright then, but don’t hesitate to come into my office should you want any career advice.”

Xabi forced a cheery smile to offset the bright red glow on his cheeks. “Sure, sure, no problem,” and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop rambling.

Ma’am Dolores was taking a few steps away already, before she snapped her fingers together like she remembered something, “Actually, if you want any input about going abroad for uni, maybe it would be better for you to talk to the graduating students themselves!”

“No, really, I...” Xabi started stammering, holding up his hands and trying to cut her off, but she continued –

“Now, I’m sure you see Mr Finnan all the time, but Mr Kewell is teaching an AP class, I’m sure you could drop by and talk to him.”

“No, no, Ma’am, I assure you, I...”

“Actually, maybe I should just sign you up in his class, right? That would probably be easier, and I’m sure you could handle any AP class anyway!” She laughed to herself as she rifled through the papers in her hands, and Xabi wanted to grab the stack from her and splay them on the floor and stomp all over them screaming, “STOP STOP DO NOT TEMPT ME WOMAN!”

Instead he forced a smile and his voice just went up a notch, “Ma’am Dolores, I’m fine, I’ll just try to talk to H-Harry,” he faltered at the name because he hasn’t said it in a while, “when we bump into each other. There’s really no need for...”

“Oh, nevermind!” Ma’am Dolores fanned her hand as she laughed, “Looks like I don’t need to tinker with anything – it turns out you signed up for his class!”

Xabi laughed in utter relief, “Yeah! Yeah, I signed up for...” His eyes bulged out as the words sank in, _“His what?!”_

Ma’am Dolores showed her the paper where his signature was still fresh and gleaming, “See? AP Chemistry. That’s Mr Kewell’s class.”

Xabi was pale and stuttering worse than before and he was sure he felt hot frustrated tears pricking at his eyelids. This was not fair.

“But, how could he... he’s supposed to teach maths! Or English!” Xabi couldn’t help whining as he stomped his foot.

Ma’am Dolores shot him a confused glance. “Well, yes, he is the leading student for Calculus and English, but he volunteered for Chemistry. I guess he wanted to branch out.”

Xabi whimpered, “But I wanted to branch out!”

Ma’am Dolores frowned, “Then maybe... you can branch out together?”

Xabi’s face crumpled and the poor administrator wouldn’t even be able to figure out why if she tried.

“No, no,” Xabi emphasised, “ _No._ No branching out together. Listen, Ma’am, maybe I should just change my AP class. ”

“But why?” The elder woman was hesitant. She peered through the lists again, “Besides, I would let you if you really wanted to, but,” she raised the list again to show it to the Basque, “If you leave the AP Chemistry class, there would only be four of them left, and that’s below the minimum class size. We would have to dissolve the section.”

Xabi’s jaw dropped and he was close to saying, ‘I don’t care.’ But he was still a people-pleaser and this was still the senior guidance counsellor in the campus, and he wasn’t about to put her off completely. Not after he already threw a hissy fit.

“A-are you sure there’s really no way around it? Maybe if I try to look for someone to replace me in the Chemistry class?” He suggested helpfully, desperately.

Ma’am Dolores shrugged, “You can try, but the deadline is today.” She filed all the papers again before putting them in her folder with an air of finality. Xabi’s heart dropped when she slapped the folder closed and held it tightly against her chest. “Other than that, I suggest you just keep your slot.”

Xabi bit his lip and tried not to protest any more. Ma’am Dolores nodded and fixed a stray bang from her bun of silver hair.

“Anyway, Mr Alonso, should you have any more concerns or complaints about the schedule, you can take it up with Mr Kewell. He’ll see you in class tomorrow, alright?”

She stood there, not making any motion to leave, not until Xabi affirmed what she just said. The Basque stared at her helplessly for a few more moments, but she didn’t budge.

Xabi sighed and nodded, hanging his head, “Okay, Ma’am. I’ll be there tomorrow.”

She nodded back, satisfied, before waddling away. Once she rounded the corner, Xabi leaned his head against the bulletin board, thumped it softly against the cork in disbelief. He was fucked. 

*

Dan threw himself on his bed that night, after a long day of running errands with his father. He sank down on the pillows and immediately fished his mobile from the pocket of his jeans. They’d been so busy buying groceries, cleaning out the garage and mowing the lawn that he hadn’t even checked his phone the entire day.

His fingers flew over the keypad as he quickly typed out a message.

_Hey, baby, how was your day?  
Sent to: Fernando Torres, 8:54 PM_

Dan was halfway between toeing off his sneakers when his phone beeped.

_Hey, there! It was lazy but fun. Just played video games with Stevie. You?_

Dan frowned and sat up, trying to get more light as he read the message again. Weren’t they all just together during the team sleepover? Why was Stevie hanging around Fernando the day after? He typed out his reply, unable to bite back the irritation in his text.

_Errands with dad. He ran me ragged. Stevie again?_

He could just imagine Fernando. He was probably lying down on his bed too, one arm behind his head, his shirt riding up that pale, pale belly so hard he would gladly do his laundry on it.

_Daaan. He just needed someone to talk to. About his date plans for Xabi. So, obviously, there’s nothing to worry about._

Dan snorted. Right, like having a current boy ever stopped anyone from fooling around with the next lad who came along.

_What, he couldn’t just text you or something?_

He was a jealous, jealous bastard. But, Stevie had his boy and Daniel had his own, okay. Clearly, though, Fernando had other ideas. It was just one of those nights where the Spaniard must have wanted to make things more difficult for Dan.

_Texting? Like you, you mean. At least Stevie actually invites me over._

Dan shut his eyes and shook his head. Yep, this was one of those nights.

_I invite you over!_

He’s lost count of the number of times they have fought through SMS. His phone bills were outrageous and his parents were always wondering how he could consume that many text messages in one month.

_Yeah, you invite me over. When your parents aren’t home. Which is about once a month._

“AGH!” Dan groaned and typed back furiously –

_Of course! You think my parents won’t be suspicious when I drag your ass up to my room, lock the door and they hear my bed banging against the wall?_

Dan craned his neck up so he could check the wall of his bedroom. The paint right behind his bed was beat up and flaking. The wood of his headboard was also chipped. Good times.

_There are so many other things we could do in your house! We could watch the telly. We could study together. We could prepare dinner. We could play video games._

Fernando was speaking in that patronising tone right now, Dan was sure. He’d been the target of that tone many, many times. He often wondered if Fernando started that tone just for him.

_Those are things we could do anywhere else, even with other people around. When I have the house to myself, I would rather be kissing you. We never get enough private time as it is. And as much as I am a fan of public fucks, I actually like –_

Dan’s forehead furrowed, before he changed the last word and retyped it.

_\- love fucking you in my own bed, Fernando Torres._

Somehow, using the Spaniard’s full name right after saying ‘fucking you in my own bed’ made Dan feel hot underneath the collar.

There was a long silence as his phone interestingly did not beep. Fernando was thinking long and hard about his reply. That silly boy was probably blushing and grinning like an idiot now. Dan sure was.

Finally, his mobile flashed: 1 new message.

_Horny bastard. I hate you._

Dan grinned even harder, like the corners of his mouth were reaching the tips of his ears.

_You don’t hate me._

Dan said it haughtily, because he knew if he goaded Fernando, he would goad Dan right back. They always disagreed about the things that kept their relationship interesting. Sure enough...

_Uh-huh. I’ll let you make it up to me by taking me out, though._

A small knowing grin spread on Daniel’s lips. This was blackmail. He loved blackmail.

_Okay, tomorrow night._

He wondered what Fernando had planned for him –

_Good. I missed you today, babe._

Dan groaned. He read the message again, and in the pit of his stomach, he felt a tiny flutter. But he quashed it easily and snickered to himself. Fernando was a fucking cornball. He thought of replying but deleted the message instead. He dropped his phone carelessly on his bedspread, then turned on his side to catch a quick nap.

*

“Naturally, when I told him I missed him, he stopped replying.” Fernando grumbled, staring at his phone for a long moment. He tapped the screen willing it to light up, his fingernail clacking loudly against the glass. When it still wouldn’t show a new message, he groaned and gave up, throwing the phone down on his pillow in annoyance.

Harry looked over his shoulder at his troubled roommate, “You know Daniel has the emotional capacity of a fly, right?”

Fernando frowned, “He has an emotional capacity?”

Harry snorted loudly before returning to what he was doing before Fernando started moping: staring at himself in the mirror.

“Why are you being more vain than usual?” Fernando asked through a big yawn, stretching lazily on his bed.

Harry answered distractedly, “Summer classes start tomorrow,” he focused on putting wax on his hair, “I want to make sure I look respectable.”

“Good luck trying to make that happen.”

Harry whirled around and showed off his masterpiece, “Does this hairstyle make me look smart? Credible? Does it say I-belong-on-this-platform? Or does it say I’ve-fucked-someone-on-that-teacher’s-table-once?”

Fernando sat up and squinted. Harry’s hair looked... like what Harry’s hair always looked like before.

“I think...”

“More product, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, maybe,” Fernando said, feigning understanding by nodding eagerly.

Harry nodded resolutely before going back to putting wax in his hair, the tip of his tongue sticking out of his mouth in concentration.

“I’ve always wanted to teach here at Anfield High. At least I get to do it before I leave.” Harry murmured, as if he were thinking out loud. “I’m so excited.”

Fernando reached for the GQ magazine on his night stand and flipped through it. He replied distractedly, “Sorry, I just don’t understand the thrill of what’s happening. So, you’re teaching. Whoopdeedoo.”

Harry whirled around to face the boy, a scowl etched on his face as he snatched his pillow and whacked Fernando over the side of his head. The Spaniard was caught unaware and was sent sprawling half on the bed, half on the floor, yelping pitifully.

“Hey!”

“Thanks a lot, Nando.”

“I said I didn’t get the thrill! I didn’t say I wasn’t happy for you!”

Harry thumped the pillow one last time against Fernando’s shoulder then dropped it on the striker’s chest. “Oof,” Fernando puffed painfully.

Harry dusted off his hands after successfully mauling Fernando, “You’re going to miss me when I’m gone.”

“I can’t wait until you leave,” Fernando said, with an exaggerated eye-roll. His eyes, though, where twinkling good-naturedly, and Harry was used to the boy’s hidden compliments.

Harry plopped down on the edge of Fernando’s bed. He mused with a small, troubled frown, “I just wish I don’t see Xabi tomorrow. I’m sure he’s enlisted to attend one of the classes.”

Fernando struggled to sit up and steady himself after the one-sided pillow fight. He fixed his hair as he absently answered, “I doubt it. Stevie told me Xabi was just taking it easy this summer before senior year starts.”

Harry shook his head. “Nah, I bet Xabi’s in school tomorrow.”

Fernando started to protest, “But Stevie said – ”

Harry cut him off with a sardonic laugh, “I think we’ve pretty much proven that I know Xabi better than Stevie, haven’t we?”

Fernando’s mouth snapped shut and his eyes darted across the room as he tried to come up with an answer.

Harry explained. “Xabi wouldn’t be able to handle the boredom of just staying at home.” His chest constricted at the ease in which he could analyse Xabi’s every move.

“We’ll see tomorrow who’s right.” Fernando taunted stubbornly, and that yanked Harry back into their argument and out of his thoughts.

Harry was going to agree when he came upon the realisation – “I’m not going to look for Xabi just to prove I’m right!”

Fernando giggled, watching Harry become increasingly agitated. “Come on, Harry, I thought you wanted to prove a point!”

“I don’t know if you don’t remember, but Xabi and I...” Harry trailed off. He and Xabi were... a trainwreck. A gruesome trainwreck, in fact. The kind where you wouldn’t even be able to look away if you tried. And Harry had been trying.

“You don’t need to talk to him,” the striker rolled his eyes. 

Harry stopped then caught himself. He snorted nonchalantly, “...I wasn’t planning to. “

“That’s right,” Fernando pored over the magazine on his lap again, murmuring, “No more chasing after Xabi, alright? Because I think Stevie’s really serious about pursuing him again.”

When Harry didn’t reply, Fernando looked up and fixed him with a stern gaze. “Harry?”

Harry glared at him in return. He disliked being told what to do, especially if it was because Stevie.

“Frankly, I don’t give a rat’s ass about what Stevie wants to do.” Harry snapped.

Fernando sighed.

Harry rolled his eyes and partially relented, “But I did promise to myself I wouldn’t go there again.”

The Spaniard relaxed and nodded. He would take that deal.

*

**Tuesday night on Facebook**

**Xabi Alonso** is dreading summer classes tomorrow.  
 _Posted 10 minutes ago_

_Pepe Reina: Stupid, then why’d you enlist?  
Xabi Alonso: I accidentally enlisted in the wrong class, okay.  
Pepe Reina: For someone in Advanced Placement classes, you can be such an dumbass.  
Steven Gerrard: Hey, watch your mouth, Pepe.  
Daniel Agger: “Hey, watch your mouth, Pepe” = I will make you run 10 laps tomorrow, bitch.  
Steven Gerrard: Why are you in this conversation, Danny?  
Daniel Agger: The football squad may be your little kingdom, Stevie, but the last time I checked, Facebook is pretty much free for all.  
Pepe Reina: Oh, hey, the handbags are out._

**Harry Kewell** is excited for summer classes tomorrow!  
 _Posted 5 minutes ago_

_Sami Hyypia: Wow, they got you to teach? Congratulations! What are class are you handling?  
Harry Kewell: AP Chemistry. Thanks, Sami!_

 

Xabi Alonso has posted a new status.

 **Xabi Alonso** is excited for summer classes tomorrow.  
 _Posted 1 minute ago_

 _Alvaro Arbeloa: You’re taking summer classes? What subject?  
Xabi Alonso: Oh, it’s just some boring class. I forget.  
 ~~Pepe Reina: Isn’t Harry going to teach AP too?????~~_  
(This comment has been deleted.)

*

It was around 1 in the morning when Fernando’s phone beeped again. It was summer, so it wasn’t exactly like they were already tucked underneath the covers in the dormitories, but still, Fernando was already in his red and green plaid pyjamas his mum had bought for him during a Christmas bazaar.

“Is that Daniel?” Harry asked from the bathroom sink where he was brushing his teeth.

Fernando opened the message and his heart jumped when he saw the name. “It’s him!” he yelled back, trying to keep the giddiness from his tone.

“What’d he say?”

“He says,” Fernando caught his breath as he felt a small giggle rising through, “I miss you too.”

Harry snorted loudly from the bathroom. “Cute. And about three hours late!”

Fernando chided back, “Better late than never. And you know Dan, he’s always more of the ‘never’ kind.”

Harry emerged from the bathroom, leaning on the doorway with froth and a toothbrush handle sticking out of his mouth. “Uh-huh. And what else did he say?”

Fernando scrolled down the message and read out loud, “I miss you too... Come on over. Mum and Dad are asleep.”

Harry laughed the best he could without choking on the toothpaste bubbles. He shook his head in disbelief, “Booty call.”

Fernando frowned and re-read the message, “No, it’s not! He... misses me.”

Harry disappeared for a second and he loudly spat out the froth , washing his mouth with water and gargling. Finally he came back out with a ready answer, “Yeah, he misses fucking you.”

Fernando defended helplessly, waving his mobile in the air for proof, “Well, maybe he misses me _and_ fucking me!”

Harry laughed even harder, “Oh, yes, I can just imagine him saying that lovingly: ‘Come over, Fernando. Even though it’s dawn and I live in the opposite side of town! I want to fuck you but quietly so my parents don’t wake up! But, don’t get me wrong, I miss you too!’”

Fernando pouted, “Fuck off, that’s not how it is!”

Harry patted Fernando’s mop of messy hair patronisingly, “Okay, so why don’t you run along now to your little boyfriend’s house, and you tell me if you spend the night braiding each other’s hair or bent over his desk chair, getting ass-fucked?”

Fernando shifted uncomfortably. That was a good mental image.

“Okay, so maybe I’ll go now, hmm?” Fernando was already hopping to his closet, yanking down his pyjamas down off his hips.

Harry snickered and climbed into his bed, “Okay, I’ll be the responsible adult and sleep early for my class tomorrow.”

“But, you support me, right?” Fernando asked, already fishing a t-shirt out of the closet and pulling it over his head, “Even though you think this is a booty call? Which it is not, by the way.”

Harry shook his head vigorously. “I’m no cockblocker.”

Fernando grinned widely, “I know. Thanks.” He blew a kiss over his shoulder and then, he was out the door.

*

Fernando knew the rule: No ringing of the doorbell. No standing by the doorstep. He waited at the corner of Daniel’s street in case one of his neighbours chanced upon him. You never knew if they would tell Dan’s mum that they saw a boy standing in the Aggers’ porch in the dead of the night.

Fernando dug his mobile out of his pocket and rang Dan.

“Yeah?” The Dane answered, hushed.

“I’m here,” Fernando hissed, growing impatient and restless. Dan didn’t even respond. He just cut the call, and maybe that meant he was already on his way down to unlock the door and fetch Fernando.

An elderly man passed by on his bike, pedalling slowly and cruising to an even slower speed as he passed Fernando. He flashed a leering grin. The Spaniard looked away and tugged his hood over his head, crossing his arms tightly over his chest in an effort to signal his disinterest.

After a few moments, the stranger left, but Fernando still jiggled his knee anxiously. He couldn’t believe he was hiding by the bus stop. Waiting for a boy to pick him up. He glanced at his watch again, and it was almost two. If Daniel wasn’t here in –

“There you are.”

“Fuck!” Fernando half-shouted, jumping in his skin as two hands gripped his shoulders tightly from behind.

“Shhh,” Dan hissed, “You’ll wake up the neighbours.”

Fernando whirled around and angrily yanked off his hood. “Well, maybe if we didn’t sneak around half the time, this wouldn’t have to be so difficult.”

Dan rubbed Fernando’s shoulders and dug his fingers in the flesh until he relaxed a little.

“Don’t be angry now,” Dan said soothingly, before leaning in a pressing a cautious smack on his lover’s lips. “I’m happy you made it.”

Fernando was still irked but he could feel his worries melting away one by one, just by the simple fact that he was with Dan again. Maybe he was overreacting. At least Daniel was here now. Sighing, Fernando nodded, “Come on, let’s go in.”

Dan took Fernando’s hand and they both strode quickly to Dan’s place, both to evade attention and to hurry to somewhere private already. Despite the many occasions, Fernando never got the hang of hiding under the shroud of darkness. It was exciting for the first time, then it just got tiring and... unsettling.

Finally, Dan closed the front door behind him, and Fernando could feel the chill of the night breeze melt away into the stale air of Dan’s dark, empty living room. He didn’t even have the time to peel off his sweatshirt when Daniel swept him into a fierce embrace, arms tight around his waist, their bodies pressed close upon each other.

“Daniel,” Fernando moaned as softly as he could. Daniel smiled in satisfaction and took in the Spaniard’s lips into a longer, deeper kiss. He loved the feel of those thin, wet lips crushed underneath his teeth and tongue.

“Harry betted that I would be spending the night bent over your desk getting fucked,” Fernando murmured in between busy kisses.

Dan pulled away just far enough to see Fernando’s blushing face. He grinned mischievously, “Well, I was thinking the bed would be more comfortable...” he trailed off suggestively, his hands wandering over to Fernando’s backside, palming the pert mounds of flesh underneath his touch.

Fernando’s heavy-lidded eyes cleared for a second. “Excuse me?”

“Hmm?” Daniel asked obliviously, ignoring everything else but the way he nuzzled his nose against the back of Nando’s ear, feeling the soft, sensitive skin there and smelling the shampoo and sweat on his scalp.

“W-wait,” Fernando interrupted as he tried to stumble away, but Dan’s grip on his waist was iron-clad. Fernando’s hackles rose again as he demanded, “So, this is just about sex.”

Daniel, for what it was worth, just stood there for a full second to hesitate. Then he blinked dumbly. “So?”

“Daniel...” Fernando sighed in exasperation as he held Daniel away at arm’s length.

Dan shook his head. He was having none of this. He roughly tugged Fernando back closer to him and nuzzled their noses together. “Baby, you’re already here.” He placed a soft kiss on each cheek, “Do you really want to spend the night fighting?”

Fernando rolled his eyes and looked away, so Daniel kissed his neck instead. The kisses were more fervent now, lips latching wetly against his skin and suckling tentatively. The Spaniard bit back a groan as he instinctively craned his neck to give Daniel more access. He felt guilty about caving in when he was supposed to be against this in principle.

“How about I make it up to you tomorrow, hmm? I can take you out, take you somewhere nice?” Dan asked, not stopping his attack on Fernando’s neck. He coaxed, “That would be good, right? That would make things good between us?”

Fernando felt his defences crumbling, as he let his arms wrap tightly around Daniel’s neck to tug him closer. “Tomorrow? For sure?” He asked grudgingly.

He felt the defender smile against his skin, then lick up his Adam’s apple, making Fernando suddenly buckle at the knees. Daniel answered triumphantly, “It’s a date.”

*

Harry paced up and down the small classroom entrusted to him for a full month of summer classes. His introductory Chemistry lecture was neatly typed out and double-spaced on bond paper. He arranged the tables and chairs to a small cluster near his desk so the class could be more relaxed. He even wrote his name on the board the way all teachers did for the first meeting.

It was still a good ten minutes before the start of class, and he was already starting to feel nervous that he didn’t have his class list. It wasn’t like he really needed one since he’d been told he only had five students – just enough to make the cut and dozens less than the more popular AP classes. Nevertheless, he wanted to know who his students were so he could prepare himself and start memorising their names.

A knock came on the door and Harry almost jumped in excitement. His first student! He strode to the entryway, his leather shoes just a bit slippery under the freshly waxed floors.

Harry would have wanted to know how he looked like, his face stretched and smiling, shiny like Christmas morning as he swung open the door. Only to have his expression suddenly freeze and falter and contort into a mixture of disbelief and horror and just... _what the fuck_.

Right in front of him was Xabi Alonso with a sheet of bond paper clutched to his chest.

“Uh, Ma’am Dolores asked me to bring you your class list.” He peeped, looking every bit as awkward and uncomfortable as Harry. He held out his hand to give Harry the paper and the Australian took it by the tips of his fingers to make sure he and Xabi didn’t touch.

“Thanks.” Harry said curtly, starting to wheel away.

“Wait...” Xabi began uncertainly, but Harry cut him off by a dismissive wave in the air.

“That’ll be all,” Harry said loudly, trying to signal that their conversation was over.

“But...” Xabi tried again, but Harry was already walking back to his table, poring over the lecturer’s guidelines, the class schedules, then, the student list. There were only five names on the list, as Harry was told. And letter “A” read...

Alonso, Xabier Olano

If Harry was shocked before, his guts churned and his heart stopped now. Whirling around again, he stared – no, glared – at the Spaniard in disgust.

Xabi stood there by the doorway, hands still clasped together and wringing nervously as he blurted out, “W-we have Chemistry together.”

Harry’s eyebrows raised, and Xabi stammered even more, “I mean, we have _Chemistry_ together, like, the subject. Not... not... chemistry, like...”

“I know.” Harry cut off sarcastically, “Cos we don’t.”

Xabi’s jaw dropped. He retorted, “Yeah, we did.”

Harry’s head snapped back and his gaze was smouldering at him. “Go to your desk.”

Xabi bit back a sneer. This was far from the reunion he was expecting. Crossing his arms over his chest, he snapped petulantly, “Yes, sir.”

Harry shook his head as he watched the Spaniard trudge to his desk, dump his knapsack on the table and scrape back the chair noisily. He plopped down gracelessly before flipping open his notebook sullenly. Harry rubbed his temples, a migraine beginning to set in. This wasn’t the clean slate he was asking for.


	5. I can't keep loving you with half of my heart

Fernando had already gotten them a table by the time Harry arrived at Starbucks. The coffee shop was usually bustling during the school year, as students took over the nooks and corners to study and cram for their classes. However, it was the middle of July and most of the kids their age were probably in parks and beaches, catching some sun – Starbucks was practically empty.

“Sorry I’m late,” Harry said breathlessly, dropping his bag and his folders on the table before wiping his sweaty forehead. “The heat is brutal. It was like a death march, walking here from the school.”

Fernando looked up, teeth still gnawing at his thumbnail. He looked bemused, but he greeted nonetheless, “Hey, Harry. Have a seat.” He pushed an empty chair in the Australian’s direction, using the toe of his sneakers. “How was your first day teaching?”

Harry pursed his lips as he processed how he would tell Fernando. The Spaniard looked at him expectantly, but in the end, it was still too much of a jumble in Harry’s mind.

“Why don’t you go tell me about your day first?” Harry delayed smoothly. “I’m so tired, let me take a breather.”

However bad the lie was, Fernando still bought it: a sure sign something was on his mind.

“I have a problem,” he announced.

Harry snickered. Like he didn’t notice. “Hmm.”

Fernando glanced longingly at his mobile. “You know how Daniel promised to take me out on a date?”

Harry snorted so loud, his nose hurt. Fernando glared at him.

“What, ‘Daniel’ and ‘date’ in the same sentence?” Harry mocked.

Fernando’s scowl deepened. “He’s trying, okay.”

Harry barked out a short laugh. “Right! Which is why you’re acting like a bitch right now.”

Fernando’s eyes narrowed into slits, but he didn’t have anything to respond. Coldly, he reached for his iced coffee and sipped in silence.

At first Harry didn’t care. Fernando always spilled when he had a story to share anyway. He could never keep it in. But the silence only let Harry’s mind wander, and it inevitably wandered back to his first day teaching AP Chemistry and...

Harry shuddered. He needed a distraction. It’s a good thing Fernando was so high-maintenance sometimes. Like now, as Harry reached out and lightly scratched at Fernando’s arm, looking up at him with wide, apologetic eyes. “Sorry, Niño. I take it back.”

Fernando was preparing to snap at him, but Harry cut him off with a sweet, saccharine tone: “Please, just tell me. I can tell it’s really bothering you.”

The Spaniard sighed before taking a long sip of his drink again. Then, he grumbled softly, “Whenever I ask Daniel about it, he just keeps dodging the issue.”

Harry’s forehead crinkled in confusion. “How?”

“Like, ‘I don’t know my schedule yet, we’ll see’ or ‘I’ll text you the details soon.’” Fernando recited, his eyes glancing warily over his mobile. “It’s just a string of delaying tactics with him.”

Fernando slumped back against his chair and gripped his coffee cup tight. “And I don’t want to nag him about it because I’m the desperate one as it is.”

“Did you talk to him about this?” It was a stupid question, but Harry felt it had to be asked.

Fernando rolled his eyes. “Of course not. Every time I text him first is another chance for him to ignore me again.”

Harry sighed and shrugged helplessly. “Then, you just have to hope against all hope that Dan comes around.” He followed with a snicker, “Good luck with that.”

Fernando’s frown deepened, “I swear to God, if he ditches me on this...”

Harry looked at him expectantly.

Fernando gnawed at his coffee stirrer unsurely. “What should I do?”

“Will you listen to me if I tell you, you should just leave him entirely because he’s a useless piece of shit?”

“...No.”

“Then, I don’t have any advice.”

“Since when were you so against Daniel?” Fernando demanded.

“Since it’s been a year since your directionless fling started and really, it’s just getting a bit tiring,” Harry snapped right back.

“Fuck off! What’s up your ass?”

Harry ran his hand over his face exasperatedly. “If you must know, Xabi Alonso is taking summer classes.”

“So, you were right.”

“He’s taking _my_ summer class.”

Fernando’s jaw dropped. “Oh.”

Harry nodded and put his head in his hands.

“Wow, that... that really is something.” Fernando could only breathe out in disbelief.

Harry clapped his hands together, “Thank you. Today, I get the spotlight.”

Fernando’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, “Wait a minute – is that why you were late today? _Did you...?_ ”

Harry seemed even more appalled than the Spaniard, “Oh my god, no!” He half-yelled in vehemence. The people around them stopped to look. Harry dropped his voice self-consciously, “I didn’t even talk to him.”

The striker looked partially relieved as he smiled unsurely, “So, there isn’t going to be World War 3?”

Harry nodded, much more confidently than what he really felt inside. “Of course not. I mean, it was pretty surprising that he turned up in my classroom but come to think of it, it’s really no big deal.” He threw in an arrogant scoff for good measure – “Besides, he’s _just_ my student.”

*

“Alright, how did everyone find the problem set?” Harry asked, taking a seat on the teacher’s table. His five students all busied themselves bringing out their notebooks from their bags and the problem sets from their folders. The boys and girls all grumbled simultaneously.

“Come on, guys, how about a bit of energy? We’re talking about atomic mass units today!” Harry exclaimed with as much excitement as he could muster.

Even Xabi – who had been keeping out of Harry’s way as much as he could – had to glance up to throw the Australian a death glare.

Harry let out a low whistle, “Okay, so the problem set wasn’t a joy ride. How about we discuss the answers and let’s see where everyone had a difficult time?”

Another noncommittal grunt of affirmation. Harry sighed as he brought out his lesson plan. He couldn’t believe these were the best of the best in their batch already.

“Who can answer question number 1? What is the molecular mass of H2SO4?”

Xabi stared hard at his answer sheet. The numbers were written down faintly, carefully, and for once, he was unsure of his answers.

He had even barged into Mikel’s room last night, wailing about his problem set. Mikel, of course, had snorted and snatched his book from him, confidently punching in a few numbers into the scientific calculator. About ten minutes of hushed muttering after, Mikel had thrown Xabi’s Chemistry book on the floor and yelled, “God, is this really necessary, Xabier? Can’t you just get Harry Kewell to teach you?!” Xabi had tried to explain that Harry Kewell was _in fact_ already teaching him, but Mikel was already pushing him out of his room, ranting about Xabi’s insensitivity to his busy, stressful life.

“Any guesses?” Harry interrupted Xabi’s daydreaming, as he hopelessly tried to solicit people’s participation.

“65.72?” A girl called Linda offered.

Harry smiled, and Xabi swore that Linda swooned behind her inch-thick prescription glasses. “Sorry, Linda, but that’s wrong. Anyone else?”

“I got 83.09 atomic mass units.” Donald answered, holding his paper right up to his face as he read his notes. It made his voice sound softer and shakier than usual.

“Sorry, Donald, that’s also wrong,” Harry apologised, but he mostly looked like he was sorry for himself that his class was failing at this badly. He clasped his hands together as he implored to the last three students in the room –“Come on, guys? Please?”

“Sir, I got 75.4.”

“...I got somewhere around that region too. 76.14.”

“No, no, no. A bit too far.” Harry cleared his throat and looked out the window – a moment’s composure before...

“Alonso?”

He immediately straightened up from his slouching position, and everyone else swivelled around in their seats to look at him expectantly. Xabi’s palms were sweating as he shuffled the papers on his desk.

“I got ninety...” the Basque searched for any assurance his answer was correct, but his solutions made no sense to him, and he had no alternative answer either way. “96.5 atomic mass units?”

The other boys and girls turned back to Harry to check for his reaction.

“...No.” Harry himself looked genuinely surprised. He even filtered through his lesson plan to check if the answer was correct. “Sorry, but no.”

Xabi sat there like he was socked in the stomach. He knew he wasn’t sure about his answers, but – no, he couldn’t be wrong.

“The answer is actually 98.09 atomic mass units.” Harry announced, and the students immediately bent over their desks to take down the figure and realign their solutions.

But Harry saw Xabi, as Xabi’s face fell and the midfielder’s embarrassment quickly morphed into disappointment. He saw the way he angrily crossed out his solution, ripped out the paper from his notebook, crumpled it into a ball and stuffed it into his bag. And Harry felt for him. Even if it was just as a starting teacher feeling for a frustrated student. With much hesitation, Harry remembered the days of Advanced Algebra tutoring sessions they spent in his dormitory room – Xabi was always so unforgiving of himself when he made mistakes.

The Australian tapped Xabi’s desk with the tip of his ballpen. “But your answer was the closest of the bunch.” He found himself offering. He turned around to make his way to the platform, so he wouldn’t have to look at Xabi when he added, “You did a good job still.”

The classroom was quiet now, and all that could be heard was the punching of calculators and the scratching of pencils against paper. Harry knew it was because the students were busy trying to answer their problem sets again. But in his heart of hearts, he allowed himself to wonder... if Xabi was silent because he was at a loss for words – just like Harry was right now.

*

Daniel reclined on the park bench and enjoyed the feeling of the sun warming the skin on his face. In his hand, he had his mobile, waiting for Fernando to pick up his call.

“Daniel,” Fernando greeted, and the happiness was immediately detectible in his voice. It warmed up the defender just as much as the summer heat was doing.

“Hey, babe,” Dan grinned like a fool, “Where you at?”

“Walking along Lime Street. Why, what’s up?”

“Where you headed?”

Fernando paused before answering quietly, “Stevie’s.”

Whatever good mood Dan was enjoying was quickly sapped out of him. “Cancel on him,” he ordered curtly.

“What?” Fernando demanded.

“Come to Stanley Park. I’m here,” Daniel nagged.

“Daniel...”

“You said you wanted to hang out.”

Fernando sighed, exasperated. “And this is your idea of going on a date?”

Daniel had no good answer to that, but he did have a better idea. He cooed to the phone, “But, Fernando, I even got you something.”

A moment’s hesitation, then a hopeful question, “You did?”

Dan looked at the brown paper bag on his lap. “Of course I did.”

Fernando didn’t speak for a long time, and Dan knew he was having second thoughts now. The Dane delivered the final blow, “You know, I just didn’t think you’d be busy with some other boy today.”

And Fernando caved. “No, it’s not like that, Danny... I’ll give Stevie a call. I’m sure we can hang out some other time anyway. I can meet you at the park.”

Dan’s face broke into a wide grin. Daniel Agger, 1. Stevie Gerrard, 0. “Are you sure?” He asked coyly.

“Of course. It’s no big deal, I swear. I can meet you in the park in 15 minutes?”

Daniel beamed triumphantly, “Sounds great. See you.”

*

By the time Fernando found Daniel, the defender was already laid on his back on the bench, one arm thrown across his eyes to block out the sunlight.

Creeping up to him, Fernando silently leaned down on the side and whispered against Dan’s ear, “Boo.”

Dan barely flinched. He raised his arm an inch so he could turn his gaze towards Fernando, and he smiled languidly. “Baby.”

Fernando smiled, but he couldn’t help but sense that something was off. Nevertheless, he lifted Dan’s legs and sat down on the bench, then rested the legs again on his lap.

“You wanna see my gift for you?” Dan winked.

Fernando almost bounced in his seat like it was Christmas morning. “Yes please.”

Dan laughed and reached for his knapsack lying in the grass. It was already half-open, and it was easy for him to yank out a crumpled brown paper bag.

Fernando bit back a giggle as he held out his hands. Daniel didn’t even bother to sit up. He just craned his neck and soaked in the Spaniard’s giddiness, before plopping the package into the open palms.

“Take a peek.” Dan coaxed.

Fernando observed the gift in his hands for a few moments. It was hard and heavy. Taking a deep breath, he rested the package on his lap and opened the flap.

“It’s...” Fernando held his breath. “...Vodka.”

He tore his horrified gaze away from the bottle to stare at Daniel in confusion, no, disbelief.

But the defender sat up now, nodding excitedly, “I know, right? I didn’t know if you preferred beer – I could have gotten you that, but, well, I finished the four-pack already.”

Fernando’s jaw was dropping lower and lower by the minute. First, he hated beer. It tasted like piss. He didn’t know why Dan didn’t know that. And second... Second, Dan got him _vodka_. Oh my fucking god.

“Y-you’ve been drinking?” Fernando could only splutter out, and his cheeks felt burning hot. “It’s not even noon yet!”

Dan smiled that languid smile again, and Fernando could pinpoint it now. It wasn’t ‘languid.’ It was tipsy.

“Do you like it?” Dan asked, his voice taking on a soft, singsong tone. It took him a few oblivious moments to register the hurt in Fernando’s face. “...You don’t like it, right?” Dan slammed a fist on the bench, “Fuck it, I knew I should have gotten you beer.”

“No, no!” Fernando hurriedly amended. He stared at the bottle again in his hands and forced a smile, “I mean, this is great.” He held up the alcohol and grinned as widely as he could, “I mean, wow, it’s... it’s vodka.”

Dan’s grin mirrored the Spaniard’s – “Awesome. I knew you’d like it. I saw it in the grocer’s and I knew I had to get it for you.”

Fernando felt torn between being flattered that Daniel was thoughtful, and insulted that Daniel was only as thoughtful as when liquor was concerned.

“Great,” Fernando replied hollowly, for lack of anything better to say.

Dan sidled up to Fernando and placed a casual hand around his shoulders. Fernando glanced up at him questioningly. Dan smiled and nudged him with his hip.

“I thought you said you wanted to go on a date.” The defender reminded, smiling widely.

Fernando raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

Daniel looked around, and then when he was sure no one was watching, he leaned in and gave Fernando a quick but thorough kiss.

Fernando blinked a couple of times when Daniel pulled away, trying to gather his thoughts. “This is... the date?”

Dan was flummoxed for a second, before his eyes lit up as if he remembered something. He took Fernando’s ‘gift’ from his hands and gallantly opened the bottle of vodka for him.

“Why not?” Dan asked, gesturing at his beer and Fernando’s vodka, “We have everything we need!”

Fernando laughed, but there was a frazzled edge to it. “Well, I was kind of hoping we could... hang out for real, you know?”

“What do you mean?” Dan asked, impatiently taking a swig of his beer already.

Fernando angled his body towards Dan so he could face him better, “Like...” He threw his hands up in the air and just asked even though it sounded stupid, “How was your day?”

Dan stared at him before answering dully. “I went to the grocer’s and bought alcohol. I just said it.”

Fernando’s enthusiasm dampened, but he tried to rally on, “Okay... and, um, what else did you do after you went to the grocer’s?”

Dan sighed heavily. “I went to the park and called you and now we are here and you’re asking me pointless questions.”

Fernando groaned. “Fine! What were _you_ planning on doing?”

Dan tried to stifle his gloating but barely succeeded. “Hey, I want us to hang out too,” he trailed off and let his arm drop from Fernando’s shoulder to his waist. “But maybe we can hang out... over there.”

Fernando followed the Dane’s gaze to a small patch of trees, a darkened, private grove in the park where only couples really ventured into.

“Seriously?” The Spaniard was _not_ impressed.

“Seriously,” Dan nodded and stood up, taking Fernando’s hand and tugging him to his feet as well.

“Is this all you ever want?” Fernando asked listlessly, but he doubted Dan understood the subtext of his question.

“ _You’re_ all I ever want, Nando,” Dan corrected, and this was the most expressive Daniel had ever been to him. Too bad it was about four beers worth of affection, and Daniel probably only meant it so he could take Fernando’s pants off.

Damn it, Fernando was overthinking again. Taking a sip of the warm vodka, Fernando nodded resolutely.

“Okay, let’s go.”

Daniel rubbed his hands together in anticipation, then he half-ran to the grove, Fernando trudging along behind him.

The moment they crossed from the sunny lawns of the public park to the cool shadows of the cove, Daniel instantly turned around and gripped Fernando’s hips when he was in reach. He walked them backwards and sat them down at the foot of a tree. Entwining their bodies together tightly, Dan whispered against the Spaniard’s lips, “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone like this.”

Fernando dodged the kiss Daniel was leaning into, and he had to ask: “What do you like – _want_ – about me?”

Dan nuzzled his face against the side of the striker’s neck. “This,” he murmured, placing small butterfly kisses at the back of Fernando’s ear.

“And this,” he cupped Fernando’s cheeks and kissed his lips.

“And _this_ ,” Daniel continued thickly, the words coming from deep in his chest, as he let his hands wander hungrily underneath Fernando’s shirt.

Fernando was stiff and frozen in place as the words sank into him. Daniel took his silence for affirmation, and that gave him the confidence to reach downwards and flick open the button of Fernando’s shorts.

“Dan...” Fernando murmured, glancing down at the lowering zipper of his fly. They weren’t even a few metres away from the entrance of the grove. Anyone could walk in on them.

“It’s a quiet day, no one will see us,” Dan coaxed, pressing his palm urgently against the front of Fernando’s bottoms. The quiver in the Spaniard’s lips meant that the sensations were slowly unravelling his defences.

Fernando sighed and looked away, “Okay, I guess.” Dan wasted no time in completely opening the fly of his shorts and pushing his hand inside. Fernando hissed in irritated surprise as Dan’s hand deftly grabbed his manhood and dryly started stroking it to arousal.

“Come on, Fernando.” Dan said, noticing the Spaniard holding back, his muscles clenched tensely and refusing to enjoy. He stroked faster and more determinedly.

Fernando pursed his lips together to stop him from snapping back at the Dane. Instead, he just angled his face away so that the other boy wouldn’t see the frown on his face. Grudgingly, he opened his legs wider to give Dan more access.

“Good boy,” Dan said. He pulled his hand out of Fernando’s shorts, spat in his palm then grabbed Fernando’s flagging cock again.

Fernando sighed. Sometimes, Dan made him feel so cheap.

*

Fernando must have been walking around in a daze because he didn’t even sense someone creep up to him. Suddenly, there was just a voice yelling in his ear, “Fernando!” and he almost got a fucking heart attack. He whirled around and saw Stevie standing behind him, smiling guiltily.

“Motherfucking hell, Stevie!” Fernando shouted, hitting Stevie with his bag.

“Is that the greeting I get after you flaked on me this morning?” Stevie teased, obviously in a good mood.

Fernando’s irritability soothed a little and he sighed, “Sorry, I’m just tired.”

“What did you have to do that was so important anyway?” Stevie asked as the two started walking again, side by side this time.

“I came from the park. I had to meet up with Dan,” the Spaniard replied, unknowingly beginning to scowl and kick an innocent pebble with so much force, it shot down the cobblestone path that led into Anfield High.

“Sounds like you had fun,” the Scouser remarked ironically, but even that it sounded like a singsong.

Fernando stopped and took a good look at his friend, “Gosh, Stevie, took the happy pill today? Why are you even in school?”

Stevie shrugged and grinned, then bounced on his toes. “I was planning to surprise Xabi. He’s taking summer classes, you see.”

Fernando smiled genuinely this time, “That’s sweet.”

They started walking again in silence, and Fernando could feel the excitement wafting off Stevie in waves. Then, he froze and stopped in his tracks.

“What?” Stevie asked, turning around, but still walking backwards.

Fernando grimaced and closed the distance between him and the midfielder with a panicky half-run. He grabbed Stevie by his forearms to stop him from moving – “Um, actually, I don’t think that might be a good idea.”

Stevie’s forehead furrowed as he asked slowly, “But, why?”

Fernando was thinking on the double. His gaze drifted to the clock tower by the school’s main entrance. “It’s only 2:40. Xabi will be in the middle of class!”

Stevie laughed. “Nando, I was just planning to drop by. I’ll just text him and ask him to come out for a few minutes, you know? I’m sure he’d appreciate the break anyway.”

Fernando tried to laugh too, but it sounded too shaky, “Yeah, but you know Xabi – he won’t want to be distracted from class. He’ll be too worried about missing a lecture or an assignment or something.” Stevie was opening his mouth to protest, but Fernando started making gestures in the air to add emphasis and distraction, “And you know these AP classes, they all get very competitive with each other, I’m not sure his classmates will even want to share their notes because he’s already the best student in your batch.”

“What, like, these nerds get political?” Stevie was sceptical.

“Okay, first, you just called Xabi a nerd, but second, _yes_!” Fernando said, nodding his head vigorously.

Stevie frowned and his shoulders sagged, “So, I went all the way to campus for nothing?”

Fernando thought about it, but answered right after a grand total of two seconds. “Yes.”

“Oh, damn it.” Stevie said, stomping his foot, looking thoroughly disappointed but overall, convinced.

Fernando felt the huge weight on his chest immediately drop, and he could afford to smile encouragingly – “Actually, I have a better idea.”

Stevie’s eyes brightened, “Yeah?”

“Come with me to my dorm room. I can make it up to you for this morning, and you can pass the time first. When it’s dismissal time, you can just meet Xabi in front of the gates or something.” Fernando wiggled his eyebrows, “You can even walk him to the bus stop again cos you’re courting him again, right?”

And Stevie blushed all the way to the tips of his ears, it was adorable. “Yeah, yeah, I could do that.”

The Spaniard clapped, “Yes, good job!” But he mostly meant it for himself, but Stevie didn’t need to know that – among other things. Fernando hooked his arm around Stevie’s arm, and forcefully tugged him away from the school buildings and to the dormitories. Xabi owed him.

*

Harry clapped his hands together to grab his students’ attention. It was the last 20 minutes of class – usually the hardest to manage as everyone starts getting restless. Most of them were already just staring at the clock, waiting for the bell to ring, and Harry stood hopelessly on the platform trying to get everybody’s energy back up.

Remind him again why he took Chemistry, of all lessons. Even he was starting to get bored.

“Last question, everyone! Come on,” he grinned so hard, it felt like his face was breaking. “What’s the molecular mass of Ca(OH)2?”

The students groaned and hunched over their notebooks and calculators, half-heartedly trying to solve for the answer.

About five minutes into the unproductive silence, Harry just sighed and relented, “Fine, why don’t I just let you guys out early?”

The boys and girls were just about going to cheer when the Australian continued, “But, you have to solve that one last problem tonight, and we’ll discuss it tomorrow.”

The class groaned loudly.

“...Sir?” A hand raised in the air.

Harry gulped. “Yes, Xabi?”

“I have the answer already.”

“You don’t have to, we can just discuss it tomorrow – ”

Xabi glanced at his other classmates before explaining, “Sir, I think everyone would much prefer extending the normal class time instead of taking home another assignment.”

Harry bit back a smirk. Trust Xabi to show him up; he was the only one who could ever really show him up.

“Go ahead then. You can write your solution on the board.”

Xabi slipped out of his seat, taking a small piece of paper with him. Harry could just barely see neat little lines of numbers written down on the notebook sheet. The Basque confidently strode to the platform, passing the teacher on his way. Harry ignored the familiar scent of his perfume and pretended to be reading the Chemistry workbook.

The class started chattering among themselves as they waited for Xabi to write down his solution on the blackboard. Suddenly, the students in their tables and chairs were immersed in their own little world, pushing Harry and Xabi into their own bubble in front of the room too.

“Remove this,” Harry instructed quietly, reaching over Xabi’s shoulder to erase a couple of decimal numbers from the solution, “Just keep it to two decimal places.”

Xabi automatically flinched, shoulder hiking up to his ear to avoid Harry’s hand, hair, air touching his neck.

“Okay,” the Basque mumbled in confirmation. He kept his eyes straight at the crumbling piece of chalk between his thumb and index finger until Harry moved away. Finally, after a few more seconds of computation, he encircled his final answer – 74.10 atomic mass units.

Xabi dusted off his hands and walked back to his seat with his head bowed to avoid any eye contact with Harry.

The Australian pushed himself off the teacher’s table and surveyed the computation, walking slowly as he followed the solution across the panels of the blackboard. He clicked his tongue incessantly as he went from one part of the solution to the other and even found himself holding his breath the closer and closer he got to the final answer. He wanted this to be right, probably just as much as Xabi.

Finally, Harry let out a soft woosh of relief to himself.

“This is correct.” He announced, turning around to face the class, keeping his face as blank and placid as possible. He let his gaze flicker over Xabi briefly, “Good job, Alonso.”

The benefit of having a small class was that Xabi could feel the people react around him –  
Mary turned around to flash him a congratulatory smile. Linda stopped doodling under her notes. Donald scratched his head and wondered why his answer was about 300 atomic mass units more than Xabi’s. Jones grumbled because hey, he could do that too, but that Spaniard always got the breaks because he was teacher’s pet.

And Xabi – Xabi hid his grin behind his notebook.

*

Finns was in the middle of “So You Think You Can Dance” when Dan barged into his bedroom unannounced and threw himself onto the Irishman’s bed.

“Um. Hello.” Finns greeted uncertainly at the boneless figure sprawled on his covers.

“Mfzh.” Dan made a senseless sighing, grunting, mewling sound and stretched lazily.

“Good day?” Finns asked knowingly, turning down the volume of the telly.

Dan closed his eyes, smiled and nodded.

“Wow, how many times have you gotten laid this week?”

“A lot,” Dan smiled deviously. “And it’s so _good_.”

“You know what they say, too much of something...”

“Well, my dick hasn’t fallen off yet or anything.” Dan said, patting the front of his shorts.

Finns averted his gaze politely and answered dryly, “Oh, it probably won’t be long now.”

Dan scoffed, “Give me a break. This is the first, long stretch where we haven’t been fighting and we’re actually _together_. It’s only fair that I get to reap my benefits.”

“What if you haven’t been fighting because you’ve been doing nothing else but shagging, you ever think about that?” Finns shot back. He hated having to talk to Dan about Fernando. They always ended up arguing. He sighed and trained his eyes back on the television show. They were about to eliminate someone now.

“Finns...” Dan said, shifting to his side so he could look at the Irishman.

“Shhh,” Finns interrupted irritably, “They’re about to announce the results.”

“Fine,” Dan pouted. He crawled further up the bed to sit beside Finns, leaning back on the headboard too, and lying his head on his best friend’s shoulder.

“They’re eliminating the ballet dude, I can feel it,” Finns grumbled.

“Aw, I like him.”

“You just like him cos he always dances without his shirt on.”

“Yes, and he’s always in tights.”

“You are a horny, horny man.” Finns chuckled.

Dan took that as a sign that the Irishman was in a good mood again. He hummed as he burrowed in closer. They lay in comfortable silence as the ballet dude did in fact get eliminated and waited until Cat Deeley closed the show before the Dane spoke up again.

“You remember when we first got together?”

Finns laughed, watching the credits to avoid the awkward topic, “You mean, when you found out I liked you and then you attacked me with your mouth?”

Dan rolled his eyes, but nodded. “Yes, and remember when we first started having sex... it was like a non-stop party. Well, that’s how it is with me and Fernando right now. It’s like, testing the waters, you know? Or seeing what we can do, how far I can go?”

Finns groaned and turned off the TV. “Yeah, and then you burn out and break up.” He glanced at Dan and admonished, “Look what happened to us.”

Dan frowned and pushed him, “Hey, I happened to like ‘us.’”

Finns’ mouth snapped shut. And he looked for something to distract him now that they didn’t have anything to watch. He settled for stealing Dan’s mobile and fiddling with the keys. Dan must have changed the wallpaper – it had always been a photo of his old room back in Denmark, but now it was a photo of Fernando forcing Dan to shove an entire stack of pancakes in his mouth during breakfast at Carra’s sleepover. Finns of course felt it was absolutely retarded and immature and just not cute or sweet and he did not get the appeal at all. Suddenly, that familiar surge of possessiveness and pride was making his throat tight.

Dan looked over Finns’ shoulder and saw the photo he was looking at in the mobile. He grinned. “Sorry, we were just being stupid.” He took the phone from his best friend’s hands, stared at the wallpaper again, grinned even wider to himself – a secret, private, intimate kind of grin – and shook his head. He didn’t change the photo. Instead, he pocketed the phone safely.

Finns’ mood dampened, but it was the reality check he needed. He dutifully, if not half-heartedly explained, “You know, you can’t compare me and Fernando. Of course it was a non-stop party with us because we were fuck buddies. You... you guys have a relationship.”

Dan pulled away from Finns and just stared at him with downcast eyes like a boy being scolded. Finns smiled ruefully as he felt affected by the issue – he always regretted not having demanded more from Dan when they were together.

Finns reached out to ruffle his best friend’s hair. “Sex isn’t the only thing you should be giving and getting from Fernando – he has other needs.” Finns tipped Dan’s chin up so he could look at him properly as he added, “And now, those needs are your responsibility too.”

Dan was despondent. “So, I’ve fucked up again, haven’t I?”

Finns smirked. “You’re allowed to fuck up, I think. As long as you clean up after your mess.”


	6. I just want to use your love tonight

As it was the middle of summer and there were no classes to be bothered with, no summer training had started and no homework to be done, there really was nothing else to do but to go drinking at every moment possible.

The host this time was Finns – everyone’s favourite host, actually. Because his family was filthy rich, there was no cheap alcohol in sight. It was all Grey Goose Vodka, Tsing Tao Beer, Patron Tequila, Johnny Walker Black Label, Absolut Kurant, and so on and so forth. No more of that filthy, paint-thinner-tasting, dime-a-dozen drinks they found at the back of the supermarket shelves all dusty and near expiry.

And the best thing was Finns’ parents sprung for it all. The only rule was: Don’t throw up on the Persian carpets.

The only downside, at least for Stevie and Xabi, was that... well, since Finns was sorta kinda dating Harry Kewell, he had to be there.

“He used to be part of the football team too, anyway!” Finns exclaimed when Stevie had walked in, spotted the Australian already there and nearly blew a gasket.

“Yeah, but now he isn’t. He doesn’t have friends in the squad anymore, Finns.”

“You’re the only one who isn’t friends with him.”

“He fucked my boyfriend!”

Finns flinched, as Xabi was a sore issue for him too. But, he just stuck his nose in the air, “Well, this party isn’t about you, so deal with it.”

Stevie sighed and followed Finns out into the garden where the rest of the team had already gathered. Sami was already mixing some Jack with Coke and passing it around. Alvaro actually looked tipsy already.

“Stevie! Lad! Hey!” Carra greeted loudly, waving his hands wildly in the air on the off-chance that Stevie couldn’t see him. “Sit here!”

Stevie smiled but held up his hand to subtly decline the offer. Instead, he made a beeline for the empty seat next to Xabi.

“Or sit beside Xabi, fine, what was I thinking?” Carra demanded sarcastically, and the whole team laughed.

Everything was going fine as the night wore on – it was the usual ranting about football, whining about school, dishing out gossip, and Penns gave a dance or two or five. Pepe also threw up first (he made it to the toilet in time, Finns sighed with relief) and came back with a huge, triumphant grin plastered on his face, saying, “I’m ready for the next round!”

The typical business of high school boys.

Until they got bored.

“Let’s go home,” Lucas said, “My head hurts.”

“But we still have two more bottles of alcohol!” Carra protested, the volume of his voice rising in decibel the more he got drunk.

“Yeah, it would be a shame to let this go to waste,” Riise tutted.

“But we can always use it for next time...” Lucas was just beginning to speak, when Riise silenced him with a glare.

“I said, we can’t let this go to waste.” Riise said with finality as he opened the bottle of Patron.

“Sorry, but we ran out of lemons,” Finns explained. “But, we have rock salt.”

“Can I just drink beer?” Yossi asked nervously, “Tequila looks kind of... deadly.”

Sami slapped Yossi’s back, “No, no, no, Benny. The cardinal rule is, start with the strongest drinks then work your way to the weakest. You can have your beer later.”

Yossi eyed the Patron again with much anxiety, “But I don’t know how to drink it.”

Riise enthusiastically volunteered, “We’ll teach you!”

Yossi panicked even more, but the guys had already started preparing everything for him.

“Now, take some salt.”

The Israeli gingerly took a pinch of salt between his thumb and pointer finger, then looked up at his teammates for the next instruction.

“Okay, um, yeah, you can put that in your mouth now.”

“Oh, okay.” He placed his fingers between his lips until he could get all the salt.

“Okay, no swallowing.”

“Mmrr?” Yossi asked, mouth, tongue, throat frozen.

“Don’t swallow the salt!”

“Drink.” Sami placed the shot glass in Yossi’s free hand.

Yossi hesitated.

“JUST DRINK IT!”

Xabi cringed. He tapped Stevie’s arm, “Don’t you think you should stop them?”

Stevie just distractedly leaned his head on Xabi’s, eyes not moving from Yossi’s drinking lesson, “Oh, don’t worry, they know what they’re doing.”

Xabi sighed, and he knew Stevie was probably right. Carra, Sami and Riise were actually more responsible than they looked and he was sure they’d inducted many, many young players into the art of binge drinking.

But sometimes, the blatant display of locker room politics off the pitch still didn’t rub him the right way. Xabi shifted in his seat, trying to look for anyone who was on his side, but all his friends were laughing right along, cheering on Yossi. Everyone except Harry, who was eating his crisps grimly. Xabi sighed. Sometimes, he misses him. Sometimes.

A loud cheer erupted around the table, tearing Xabi from his thoughts. Yossi drank the tequila now, but the way his face scrunched up in distaste warned that he just might wretch it out. Sami immediately clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Don’t spit it out, Yossi.”

“I shit you not, that shot costs more than your allowance for a week.”

“Don’t. Spit. It. Out.”

That seemed to threaten Yossi enough, because he finally took a big gulp and only managed to wretch for a brief moment. Xabi sighed with relief inwardly, as everyone cheered loudly around him, calling for another round of drinks.

“Let’s play a game,” Dan suggested as he took the Patron from Yossi and poured a fresh shot.

“I don’t want to play Truth or Dare anymore,” Finns immediately said. “I’m not kissing Fernando again. No offence.”

Fernando smiled sarcastically. “None taken.”

“Lads!” Carra admonished.

“I have a game.” Harry spoke up, smiling against the rim of his glass. “It’s just a drinking game, no dares.”

Sami perked up, “Sounds like a good idea. Let’s hear it.”

Finns smiled proudly, Harry was always the smooth operator. Stevie, on the other end of the table, was not happy that someone else was running the show.

“It’s just pretty simple. The game is just about asking questions,” Harry explained. “But the catch is, you can’t answer the question, you just have to throw another question at somebody else quickly. No stuttering, no pauses, or else you take a shot.”

Most of everyone’s foreheads were wrinkled in confusion.

Harry said, “Okay, let me demonstrate.” His eyes scanned the group, then he blurted out quickly, “Carra, how big is your cock?”

Carra’s face immediately turned red as he bellowed, “EXCUSE ME?!”

The team burst out laughing. Dan gave him the shot glass, filled to the brim with tequila. Carra downed it quickly, not even taking any salt or chaser to go with it.

“So, that’s how you lose.” Harry said. “Your only response should just be to call out someone else’s name and ask them a new question. Obviously, the more outrageous the questions, the better.”

“I don’t know about this...” Stevie murmured nervously, but Xabi grinned at him, “Come on, it looks like fun!”

“Just a few more minor rules: you can’t ask the same question that you were just asked. And, no two people can keep batting out questions to each other in succession. This not the time for your bullshit sessions.” Harry explained.

The group nodded and Daniel clapped his hands, “Let’s do this!”

“Take it away, Carra!”

The Scouser took a deep breath as he prepared himself. “Penns, why don’t you like Rafa?”

Stevie’s jaw dropped. Everyone had issues with the manager at one point or the other, but he didn’t know anyone who actually _hated_ him. Carra was always much, much better at reading players than he was.

But Penns was cool enough and he shot back, “Yossi, why are you such a prude?”

Yossi was pale and nervous but he managed to ask, “Alvaro, what time is it?”

“Pepe, what’s your favourite sexual position?”

Riise choked into the crisps he was eating.

“Sami, why did the Spanish conquer the United States?”

“Dan, do you still like Finns?”

“Finns, do you still like me?” Dan smiled widely. Until the group erupted in jeers.

“...What?”

“No using the same question, fucktard.”

“That was not the same question, I changed the name!” 

“Yeah, cos you could really ask: ‘Finns, do you still like Finns?’” Riise retorted.

Dan threw his hands up, “Fine. Just give me my shot.” Sami handed him his tequila and the bowl of salt. “And for the record, my answer to that question was no.”

“Yeah, yeah, we know, we know,” Pepe said, rolling his eyes. “We would _never_ have doubts.”

Fernando glared at the keeper, but his attention was tugged away – Daniel gently took his hand and grinned that winning grin of his. “Do you mind?”

The Spaniard’s jaw dropped, unable to comprehend. Daniel sprinkled some salt on Fernando’s wrist and deftly licked it clean. Fernando’s heart stopped – he was won over so easily sometimes.

Dan was smiling as the entire group was silenced. He tossed back the tequila, let it mix with the salt on his tongue then swallowed it down. Not yet done, he tilted Fernando’s face to the side then kissed him.

“Best chaser of the night.” He said after.

The faces that met him ranged from surprised (Carra) to near-fainting (Yossi), from amused (Harry) to horrified (Finns).

“Right, uh, next game... erm, I mean, next question,” Fernando babbled incoherently beside him.

Unpressured, Dan had the luxury of asking the burning question in everyone’s minds: He trained his eyes at Xabi.

“Xabi, how does it feel to be in the same party as Stevie _and_ Harry?”

Xabi was utterly, utterly panic-stricken as he stumbled, “Harry, what, uh...”

The guys snickered. Dan shrugged. “I guess now we know the answer to my question.”

Xabi glared at the table top. What the fuck, he had prepared a perfectly safe question in case he got called. Pepe, are you good with your hands. Pepe, are you good with your hands. Pepe, are you good with your hands. He memorised it over and over in his head. Then Dan popped that godawful question at him and his mind was on auto-pilot, it was like it latched on to the last thing he heard which was... Harry.

He sneaked a sidelong glance at the Australian – Harry was busy talking to Finns, as if too unbothered by what had just happened.

Stevie was stiff beside Xabi as he handed him the shot glass of Patron without a word. And because Xabi did not have the same shamelessness as Dan, he couldn’t lap at his ex-boyfriend in front of everyone. He just chugged down his tequila, and coughed ungracefully after as it burned down his throat. Stevie helpfully passed him a glass of Coke to chase it down.

“I’m sorry,” Xabi muttered, as he wiped his mouth with the back of his jacket sleeve. The Scouser forced a small smile, “It’s just a stupid drinking game, yeah?”

Xabi mirrored back the smile, “Yeah, of course,” he said, caressing Stevie’s thigh comfortingly.

“Okay, stop the lovefest,” Carra clapped his hands, “Fire a question, Xabi, let’s finish this bottle of tequila!”

Xabi tried again – “Harry...” and the entire group went silent, hanging on the edge of their seats for the question, and he swore the Australian was just looking at him with _smiling eyes_ , daring him to ask anything he wanted cos by god, he knew Harry would answer him. “...What is the uh...”

“You fail, Alonso!” Riise, Sami and Carra were chortling loudly as they refilled Xabi’s shot glass, alcohol spilling generously down the sides. 

“But for what it’s worth, at least you were persistent.”

“Fuck off, you guys.”

Xabi’s eyelids fluttered closed for a millisecond as he tried for the third time, all that tequila starting to heat up his chest, his stomach, the tips of his fingers and toes. Easier targets this time.

Xabi – smooth and silken: “Stevie, how badly do you want it?”

Stevie – bothered and gruff: “Uh, Lucas, do you honestly think you’re good enough?”

Lucas – slightly offended: “Sami, how can you keep a long-distance relationship?”

Sami – barely ruffled: “Carra, would you go gay for Stevie?”

Carra – too drunk to care: “Finns, why did you sleep with Dan?”

Finns – absolutely pleased with himself: “Dan, what would make you cheat on Fernando, other than, well, me?”

Cruel questions all around, but the night was getting older and people were getting cattier.

Dan – far too riled up for his liking: “Harry, how does it feel to be my replacement?”

And though it was Harry’s game, he couldn’t resist the urge to snap back – “Fucking easy, you know? Really fucking easy.”

Stevie tutted. “Take a shot, Kewell.” He deftly slid the shot glass to the Australian, who glared at him back. They were beyond pretence at this point.

Xabi looked away, suddenly having to strike up an impromptu conversation with Dirk about taking a vacation in the Netherlands. He did not want to see Harry lick salt of his wrist and chug down that tequila like it was fucking Jamba Juice.

Fernando saw the glint on Harry’s eyes as he prepared his question. “He’s gonna get back at you Dan,” he warned, to which Dan scoffed, “He can try.”

Harry smiled, “Daniel, what was the best sex Fernando’s ever had?”

“Ohhh!” Everyone burst into hoots and wolf whistles. Even Xabi had to snicker. It seemed like a fairly innocent question, since Daniel was Fernando’s lover after all. But it was that smug grin on Harry's face: he knew something Daniel didn’t. What a fucking zinger. 

Somehow, Daniel managed to keep it together to pass the ball to Fernando.

“Fernando, would you care to enlighten me?”

Fernando’s face burned a bright red, he didn’t even attempt to ask another question. He just wordlessly asked for the shot glass and salt from Harry.

“Fuck you, Kewell. You really had to use me as bait?” He snapped as he prepared his tequila in annoyance.

“It was an honest question!” Harry smiled innocently.

Fernando covered his face in embarrassment. “Why do I always get stuck with the sex questions?”

Dan placed a kiss on his neck, “Because you get a lot of action, babe.”

Pepe wolf-whistled, until Harry put in, “Yeah, and it’s all Fernando _ever_ gets.”

Xabi had to clap his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loudly.

Daniel flipped the Australian his middle finger.

“No one else answered their questions, okay,” Fernando protested.

“I answered that it was easy to replace Dan,” Harry quipped. Finns slapped him at the back of his head.

“And Xabi practically answered anyway that he can’t handle Harry and Stevie within three metres of each other.” Dan offered helpfully.

Fernando pouted, “Carra didn’t answer how big his cock was during the first round.”

Carra interrupted, “It’s fucking massive, thank you.”

Everyone laughed. Stevie leaned in, “Now go on, no excuses.”

Fernando took a deep breath, “It was the first guy I slept with, okay? Obviously, not our first time since that was awkward and painful, but the second time... yeah.”

Dan’s arm instinctively tightened around Fernando’s waist. He knew he wasn’t Fernando’s first, in the same way that Fernando wasn’t his, Finns was. But he had never heard this story before.

“And who was this guy?”

Fernando waved away the question, “You don’t know him, it happened when I was still in Spain.”

“I’m from Spain.” Pepe raised his hand.

“I’m from Spain.” Alvaro mimicked.

“I’m from Spain.” Xabi followed, laughing.

“I, uh, watch La Liga.” Stevie volunteered. A couple other boys nodded, “Aye!”

“I... can search him on Facebook,” Daniel said.

Fernando groaned. “It was just some guy named Raul.”

“OH MY GOD!” Everyone jumped as Alvaro screeched, eyes bulging out.

“Jesus Christ,” Carra cursed, clutching as his heart palpitated.

Pepe was practically rolling on the floor laughing, while Xabi hid his face against Stevie’s arm as he giggled drunkenly, endlessly.

“Oh, god,” Fernando couldn’t stop laughing either, burying his face in his hands.

“Hi, please enlighten,” Finns called out loudly for the rest of the non-Spaniards.

“How could you think that we didn’t know who Raul was?” Pepe demanded.

Xabi tried to explain, “Raul is like... the Steven Gerrard of the Spanish team.”

Harry snickered at Fernando, “Yeah, you like your Steven Gerrards, don’t you.”

Stevie hid his blush by taking a sip of his drink.

“And?” Daniel nagged, a definite edge to his voice, “And why was he special?”

Fernando shrugged, trying not to make a big deal out of it, “We were close. He was the captain when I came in and we were both strikers. You know, he just became my mentor and... he taught me a lot of things.”

“Oh, I bet he did.”

“Anyway,” Fernando cut off everyone’s banter loudly, “One last round, yeah? Some of us have to be back before curfew.”

“Pick an easy target, Nando.”

Nodding, Fernando surveyed the table. Actually, there was really only one weakling here.

“Xabi, out of all the people in the world, why Harry?”

Xabi shook his head, laughing ironically to himself. “Fine, I’ll take the shot.”

Fernando raised his eyebrow at Harry, which the Australian conveniently ignored.

“Just like that?” Dirk asked suspiciously.

Xabi shrugged, “I had no prepared questions.”

“See, you’ll have to answer it now cos everyone else answered their questions,” Finns pointed out, feeling curious about the answer.

“Uh, no thanks,” Xabi rejected smoothly, “I’ll just take another shot if you guys want. I’ll even take two.”

“But that’s not in the rules,” Finns answered back, feeling upstaged.

“It’s just a stupid drinking game, Stephen.” And that irritates the Irishman even more.

“Hey, let’s just let this go.” Somebody finally speaks up, casually, but with a firm undertone. Finns is surprised to discover it was Harry who says it. He caught him nod slightly at Xabi, to which the Basque smiled briefly, gratefully.

“Fine,” Finns said, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Yeah, I think a couple of these lads have to go home now and they’re hitching with me,” Sami said, standing up.

“You sober?” Carra asked. Sami nodded then went up to Finns to give his thanks for hosting. Not soon after, several other lads followed him out the house.

“Feel free to hang out as long as you guys want,” Finns said, gesturing at the table still overflowing with snacks and drinks.

“Oh, we will,” Riise said, leaning back in his chair and grabbing a bag of Cheetos just for himself.

“Well, if you lads don’t mind, I’ll be taking this now,” Dan said, getting to his feet and stealing the half-full bottle of tequila and bowl of salt.

“Do you want fresh shot glasses for that?” Stevie asked, reaching for the tray.

Dan grinned, “Nope,” he yanked the unsuspecting Fernando to his feet. “They’re called body shots.”

Stevie raised his eyebrows at the striker, trying not to grin wolfishly. Fernando shrugged back, blushing like a schoolgirl.

“No stains on the carpets!” Finns called out.

“We’ll stay in the kitchen!” Daniel hollered back.

“We have curfew, Nando!” Harry yelled over his shoulder.

“We’ll be quick!” And it was still Dan who answered, with Fernando laughing conspiratorially after him as they both scampered into the house.

“Finns, is it alright if I smoke?” Xabi spoke up softly.

The Irishman hesitated – sure, Daniel smoked here all the time. Inside the house, outside the house, by the smoke detector, he didn’t really care. But he was petty and after tonight, he didn’t feel in the mood to give Xabi _anything_. Besides, this was his house.

“Sorry, you gotta do it outside the gate. My mum doesn’t like the smell of cigarette smoke in the house or in the garden.” He said, his face expressionless.

“Cool, no prob.” Xabi stood up, digging his lighter and packet out of his jean pocket, until he felt a heavy grip on his hand.

“Xabs, I thought you quit,” Stevie said with a half-smile, trying to suppress the disapproval in his tone.

“Just tonight, for the alcohol,” Xabi answered nonchalantly, batting his eyelashes to be extra convincing.

Stevie sighed, “Fine, I’ll go with you outside.”

The two excused themselves from the table and walked to the Finnan front gate where Xabi could finally light up.

“You don’t have to go with me, Stevie. I know you don’t like the smoke.” Xabi said, leaning against the gate, and enjoying the feel of the smoke in his throat again.

Stevie shrugged as he stared at the ground. “S’okay, I kinda wanted to talk to you about something anyway.”

Xabi’s forehead furrowed. “Shoot.”

Stevie seemed to mull it over for a long time before mumbling unsurely, “You know when Fernando asked you, like, what the dealmaker was with Harry? Why didn’t you want to answer the question?”

Xabi felt his blood run cold. He took a long, too long a drag of his cigarette that his throat hurt. “Cos it’s over,” he rasped out. “It’s useless to talk about it.”

The grimace in Stevie’s face didn’t disappear. If it was over and if it was useless, it would’ve been easy to joke about it with the guys. Xabi could have given a cop-out answer, “Harry’s nice” or “Harry’s smart” and Stevie would have accepted that cos he knew he was sometimes too short-tempered and most of the time, really stupid, especially when compared to the likes of Xabi and Harry and Finns.

But Xabi had just given them all a pained, muted smile and brushed off all their heckling, a clear warning sign for everyone to stop pushing the topic.

Of course, Stevie was ignoring this warning sign. He crossed his arms over his chest and asked stubbornly, “So, why Harry?”

“It’s a stupid drinking game, Stevie.”

“Xabi, why Harry?” Stevie asked, louder now. His face had grown darker as well.

Xabi snapped back. “What do you mean, why?” He flicked his cigarette until the ashes fell off. “Stevie, you’re not my boyfriend anymore. I’m sorry, but I don’t owe you an explanation.”

Stevie chuckled humourlessly. “Yeah, but I was your boyfriend when you cheated on me with him.”

“Fuck it. You’re always going to dangle that in front of me, aren’t you?”

The Scouser just shrugged.

Xabi sighed and looked up at the night sky. “Look. He was just... new, okay? And different.”

Stevie snorted. “That’s bullshit. _Alvaro_ could’ve been new and different.”

Xabi shook his head and laughed in disbelief. He took a long drag of his cigarette, and his words and the smoke mixed as he breathed them out, “Would it have made a difference if I cheated on you with _Alvaro_? No. You hate me for being disloyal and that’s that.”

Stevie made a move to speak but Xabi cut him off, jabbing his finger at Stevie’s chest accusatorily. “You’re only pushing this issue so you can have something to hold against me, and something to beat yourself up over. And I’m telling you now, that’s not gonna do us any favours.”

Stevie swatted his hand away, “No, I want to know because Harry keeps making eyes at you all night.”

Xabi looked away, threw his cigarette down on the clay tiles of the Finnans’ pathway and stomped on it angrily. “He wasn’t.” His fingers were practically shaking now, Stevie could see. He couldn’t even get a new stick from his packet without almost dropping it, then he fumbled with his lighter too.

Furious, Stevie reached up and plucked the cigarette out of Xabi’s mouth, tore it in half and let it fall to the ground. Xabi stared at him in horror, disbelief.

“Fine,” Xabi spat, “You know why I like Harry?”

Stevie raised his eyebrow, face stony. He was ready for this.

“Because he was _fun_.” Xabi confessed. There was a long, awkward pause, and his words just hung in the air. Xabi had to look away and stifle a small, nostalgic smile.

“And... and he was interesting.” Xabi said softly, shoving his hands into his pockets. He glanced at his ex-boyfriend fleetingly, “And he lets me make mistakes, Stevie. Sometimes, I don’t _need_ to be the reliable one.”

Stevie took a step back. There was a loud pounding in his head and a ringing in his ears. The truth stung him hard, he didn’t know what answer to expect. He shook his head in disbelief, “Xabi, h-how could you...?”

But Xabi interrupted. His voice was small but determined. “I’m sorry I cheated on you, Stevie. But you can’t make me regret liking him.”

Xabi could see the distress in Stevie’s expression, the struggle to comprehend everything that had just been said. He made a move to touch Stevie’s arm, but Stevie flinched and moved away.

The Basque sighed, “You asked for it, Stevie, not me. “

But the Scouser still couldn’t find it in him to speak up. His face was pale.

Xabi gave up. This was something Stevie needed to grapple with by himself. He spoke up again, though he knew there wasn’t gonna be any response.

“I think I’ll just take a short walk down Finns’ street. Get some fresh air, you know?”

All that Stevie managed to do was nod slowly. Xabi glanced at him in concern one last time. Then, he pushed open the gate and slipped outside the house, leaving the Scouser alone in the middle of the garden. The loud metal clank of the gate closing sounded so hollow behind Xabi.

*

“You know what I like about tequila bottles, Fernando?” Dan asked, eyes wide in almost childlike wonder.

Fernando’s breath hitched as the Dane cornered him against the counter.

“What about them?” Fernando asked, his heart leaping to his throat in anticipation.

“The way they have tiny nozzles,” Dan said, grinning in fascination. “Makes it easy for the tequila to trickle down slowly, like this.”

He held the mouth of the bottle flat against Fernando’s neck, at the soft flesh right behind his ear, then tilted it carefully. Fernando gasped as he felt liquid gently falling in a steady rivulet down his neck. Dan curved down to lick it, ending at Fernando’s pulse point and sucking on it hungrily until the taste of the liquor was gone.

Daniel straightened up and tugged up Fernando’s shirt, pushing it all the way until it bunched up under his armpits. Dan hummed in satisfaction as his eyes raked over Fernando’s long torso again – he never tired of this. The Spaniard’s breaths were shorter now, licking his lips excitedly. He leaned back on the counter on his elbows to make it easier for Dan to do what he was going to do next.

Dan practically turned the bottle upside down, watched thirstily as the tequila poured out generously over Fernando’s stomach. It ran down the sides of his torso, dripping down to the counter, spilling on the tiles of the floor, staining the waistband of his jeans.

“Fuck, Dan – ” Fernando was halfway through muttering, until the Dane practically drank from Fernando’s stomach. It made Fernando groan out loudly, “Daniel!” Dan’s tongue lapped at whatever he could reach, trying to catch the droplets before they spilled down Fernando’s sides, littering his lover’s torso with small bites and love marks. 

Fernando gripped the counter to steady himself. His eyes followed every move Dan’s mouth made so it wouldn’t tickle so much when his tongue and teeth grazed at his skin. It didn’t work. He still found himself uncontrollably squirming under the Dane’s hot breath.

Dan straightened up. “Fuck, you taste good.”

The striker smiled. “Let me.” He took Dan’s hand and dipped two of his fingers in the heap of salt. Dan watched, entranced, as Fernando took his fingers and slowly, tantalizingly raised it to his lips.

 _‘Go on,’_ Daniel wanted to goad him, but his throat was dry.

Fernando experimentally licked at the tip, tasted the salt and involuntarily winced. Dan laughed, the eroticism of the moment breaking for a moment.

“You don’t have to eat the salt on its own, you know,” Dan joked. “I can pour you the tequila right after.”

“Ugh,” Fernando made a face and stared at Dan’s salt-covered fingers again. “Can we go back to our Nutella phase again?”

Dan smiled nostalgically, remembering the first time they ever had sex. “I don’t think Nutella will mix well with tequila, baby. Another night?”

Fernando pouted, but nodded obediently anyway. He looked at Dan’s fingers again with a renewed sense of purpose. It was drying up quickly, the salt was falling off the skin, so Fernando quickly took the fingers into his mouth. Dan wasn’t even ready for it.

It took a while for the sensations to penetrate Dan’s drink-addled brain, but once his mind registered that Fernando was sucking on his fingertips, a shudder coursed through his body.

“So fucking hot,” Dan purred dazedly. He couldn’t blink as Fernando easily slipped his fingers all the way up to his knuckles. The Spaniard hollowed out his mouth, sucking at Dan’s fingers from all sides and Dan’s stomach turned. And when Fernando flexed his tongue to reach at the salt between Dan’s fingers, nudging unintentionally at the sensitive flesh there, Dan swore he could feel that sensation all the way between his legs.

Gritting his teeth in a bid to control himself, Dan pulled his fingers out of Fernando’s mouth. It came out with a pop, messy and dribbling and catching on Fernando’s bottom lip and chin. Dan’s hands were shaking as he raised the tequila bottle and aimed it at Fernando’s mouth.

“Finish it?” He asked. There was very little Patron left, not more than a few centimetres at the bottom of the bottle. But it was still definitely more than what would be in a shot.

Fernando didn’t answer, just tilted his head back and parted his lips.

Oh, how Dan loved a willing lover.

He didn’t bother pushing back Fernando’s hair or even trying to steady his grip. Fernando looked good, the messier, the better. He poured all the tequila in Fernando’s mouth, not stopping until he could hold the bottle upside down and it would drip no longer. Fernando couldn’t humanly take all of it, and when he swallowed the tequila in two gulps, some of it still spilled down the side of his mouth and stained his t-shirt.

 _‘So fucking hot,’_ that was all his mind was thinking, over and over again, as Daniel grabbed Fernando roughly by the collar of his wet shirt and pulled him into a long, searing kiss.

Fernando tried to pull away to catch his breath, but Dan yanked him back in an instant, exchanging short, frenetic kisses, hands grabbing at hair, clothes, flesh.

Fernando’s eyes were half-closed, his arms clung desperately around Dan as the defender attacked his neck again. Meanwhile, one of Dan’s hands found its way down Fernando’s body, following the familiar curve of his ass, then down the back of his thigh. When he got to the back of Fernando’s knee, he grabbed it and hoisted up the Spaniard’s legs, momentarily throwing Fernando off balance that he had to lean back against the counter even more.

Dan wrapped Fernando’s leg around his waist so he could settle better right against his body. Now, Fernando’s gaze was unfocused now, from lust and from drunkenness, but he took one glance at their bodies and he knew he was going to be in for quite a night.

“I don’t know who Raul was or whatever fancy shit it was he did with you,” Dan muttered possessively. He tightened his grip on Fernando’s waist so he could ride him properly, “But I should be your best sex ever because Jesus Christ – ” he violently thrust down and mashed their hips together. Fernando bit back a delirious sob. “We’ve always been brilliant at this.”

Fernando’s out-of-body experience slowly ebbed away at Daniel’s words, and he felt his self-awareness coming back. “Are you jealous of Raul?” He asked, a small smile playing on his lips.

Dan looked up, all movements paused. “No,” he snorted. “I’m jealous he was your best, but I don’t see why I should care about anything else.” The defender spoke so matter-of-factly.

Fernando’s heart fell. “Oh,” he frowned.

Dan playfully slipped one hand under Fernando’s shirt and let it caress the Spaniard’s side. “How about I present my case for best sex?”

Fernando laughed weakly, but he never looked so unsure about being intimate. He glanced at the open doorway of the kitchen, “Are you sure? Someone might walk in on us.”

“Mr and Mrs Finnan are asleep. Everyone else is outside.”

“I don’t know, maybe on another day...” Fernando began sweetly.

But Dan interrupted him by snapping his fingers. “Ah, I have an idea. Let’s just go to one of the guestrooms. That way we’re sure it’ll be just the two of us.”

Fernando was horrified, “Dan! This isn’t our house!”

Dan brushed off his complaint and started walking into the main hallway of the house. “Relax. You forget that I once used to sleep with Finns. I know every nook and cranny of this place.”

Fernando sighed. “I never forget.”

Dan stopped in his tracks and shot Fernando a look. A look that said they weren’t discussing this again.

Fernando held up his hands in the air, “Fine, fine, come on. Let’s go to that guestroom.”

*

It was already late when Mikel arrived to fetch Xabi. Most of the team had left, except for the few hardcore drinkers and Daniel and Fernando, who had yet to emerge from the house.

Xabi carefully stood up from the table and coughed. It was too awkward for him to address Finns directly, so he just announced to everyone in general, “I’ll go ahead guys. My brother’s here.”

Carra, Sami and Riise chorused their goodbyes, while Harry and Finns were noticeably silent. At most, Finns as the host raised his hand in a vague, half-hearted wave.

Stevie stared intently at his beer bottle, fighting with himself if he should go after the Basque or not. His mum had raised him to be a gentleman, and it was already a habit of his to walk Xabi to his ride. It was just his way of making sure Xabi was getting home safe when he wasn’t the one who was taking him there.

However, as Stevie was bitterly reminded tonight, they weren’t together anymore. Stevie was no longer bound towards public displays of chivalry, especially when Xabi didn’t want them. Besides... Ah, fuck it.

“I’ll walk you to the gate,” Stevie blurted out, getting to his feet. Xabi stopped gathering his things and glanced at the Scouser unsurely. His cheeks heated up at the knowledge that the team was watching this exchange.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to...” He began, but Stevie insisted.

“No, come on. I wanna say hi to Mikel too anyway.”

Xabi glanced at Carra, who stared back at him dumbly. Stevie and Xabi have always arrived and left team functions together, he didn’t understand what the big fuss was about now.

Xabi relented and plastered a forced smile on his face. “Okay then. Let’s go!”

Stevie and Xabi’s walk across the Finnan garden was quiet and awkward. All that could be heard was the shuffling of their shoes against the cold soil, muffled slightly by the perfectly-trimmed Bermuda grass. It was a clear, starry night, with just enough wind to make the heat bearable. The flowers and vines in the garden hung closely around the pathway, making a green canopy above them. It all would have been very romantic, if not for the thick tension that had settled between Stevie and Xabi.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you.” Xabi murmured, kicking a stray pebble distractedly.

“I know,” Stevie answered dully beside him, shoulders hunched and head bent down. Xabi ran his hand down Stevie’s back in an unspoken signal for the Scouser to fix his posture. Stevie automatically straightened up a little.

“And I’m sorry about what I said,” Xabi continued. “But I needed that. And you needed that.”

Stevie swallowed the lump in his throat and just choked out an incoherent sound of affirmation. He hated it when he ended up wrong and again, Xabi turned out to be right.

Stevie came to a stop by the gate and opened it for Xabi. They both walked out into the street to where Mikel’s old Toyota sedan idled. Stevie raised his hand to wave at the older Alonso.

“So, what now?” He asked Xabi, the anxiety dripping in his voice.

Xabi took Stevie’s hand into his and gripped it tightly. “What do you mean, ‘what now’? There is no ‘what now.’ I told you I was willing to work at rebuilding our relationship. That hasn’t changed just because of a petty argument.”

Stevie glanced at their linked hands and intertwined fingers. He missed this. “But, what about Harry?”

Xabi sighed at the mention of the name again, “Stevie, he’ll always be a part of our history. But that’s precisely that, it’s the past. I can’t change that, but we both know it’s over.”

Stevie chewed on his bottom lip, not convinced entirely. But at least this time, he could look Xabi in the eye now.

With his free hand, Xabi rubbed at the worry lines on Stevie’s forehead. He gave the Scouser an encouraging smile and said, “Look, the next time you feel insecure about Harry, remember that I chose you. _Twice._ I chose you over him both times I had to make that decision.”

And for the first time, a small, flattered grin broke into Stevie’s face. “I guess so. I thinkI just have to come to terms with it, you know?”

Xabi nodded in understanding. Stevie shuffled from one foot to the other, “So, you have to leave already?”

The Basque laughed, glancing at Mikel waiting in the car, the engine running all this time. “Yeah, yeah, kind of.”

Stevie chuckled faintly too, “Yeah, I figured.” He asked, “Good night?”

A small flower of hope bloomed in Xabi’s heart. He leaned in to give Stevie a kiss on both cheeks, “Good night.”


	7. Rafa discovers the internet

**Sender:** rafael.benitez@anfieldhigh.co.uk  
 **Recipients:** varsity.football@anfieldhighgroups.co.uk

HELLO EVERYONE  
LET US HAVE A SQUAD MEETING ON MONDAY 10 AM ROOM 307 WE NEED TO DISCUSS OUR PRESEASON TRAINING AND SUMMER FRIENDLIES THANK YOU SEE YOU THERE OKAY DONT BE LATE

RAFA

\- - - - -

 **Sender:** yourboyfriend_16@msn.com  
 **Recipients:** varsity.football@anfieldhighgroups.co.uk; rafael.benitez@anfieldhigh.co.uk

What the fuck, 10 AM on a Monday morning IN THE MIDDLE OF SUMMER? What, we couldn’t schedule it earlier?!

\- - - - -

 **Sender:** fernando.torres@anfieldhigh.co.uk  
 **Recipients:** varsity.football@anfieldhighgroups.co.uk

Who the fuck is yourboyfriend?

Fernando

\- - - - -

 **Sender:** pepe.reina@anfieldhigh.co.uk  
 **Recipients:** varsity.football@anfieldhighgroups.co.uk

Well, your boyfriend definitely isn’t Daniel HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH.

\- - - - -

 **Sender:** alvaro.arbeloa@anfieldhigh.co.uk  
 **Recipients:** varsity.football@anfieldhighgroups.co.uk

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH.

\- - - - -

 **Sender:** johnarne.riise@anfieldhigh.co.uk  
 **Recipients:** varsity.football@anfieldhighgroups.co.uk

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH.

PS yourboyfriend_16 is Penns. Who else would be retarded enough to whine about training, click ‘reply to all’ and not remove Rafa from the mailing list?  
\- - - - -

 **Sender:** yourboyfriend_16@msn.com  
 **Recipients:** varsity.football@anfieldhighgroups.co.uk; rafael.benitez@anfieldhigh.co.uk

Oh, fuck!!!!!

\- - - - -

 **Sender:** johnarne.riise@anfieldhigh.co.uk  
 **Recipients:** varsity.football@anfieldhighgroups.co.uk

You did it again, Penns.

\- - - - -

 **Sender:** rafael.benitez@anfieldhigh.co.uk  
 **Recipients:** varsity.football@anfieldhighgroups.co.uk

HELLO EVERYONE  
AS PER THE REQUEST OF YOUR BOYFRIEND 16 SQUAD MEETING ON MONDAY WILL BE MOVED EARLIER TO 8 AM STILL IN ROOM 307 THANK YOU DONT BE LATE HAPPY SUMMER OKAY

RAFA

\- - - - -

 **Sender:** steven.gerrard@anfieldhigh.co.uk  
 **Recipients:** jamie.carragher@anfieldhigh.co.uk

Is Rafa being serious about this 8 AM call-time?

Stevie

\- - - - -

 **Sender:** jamie.carragher@anfieldhigh.co.uk  
 **Recipients:** steven.gerrard@anfieldhigh.co.uk

Guess who’s team captain and has to be there early? Bwahahahaha.

Carra

\- - - - -

 **Sender:** steven.gerrard@anfieldhigh.co.uk  
 **Recipients:** jamie.carragher@anfieldhigh.co.uk

Well, you’re vice-captain so you have to be there early too, dumbass.

\- - - - -

 **Sender:** jamie.carragher@anfieldhigh.co.uk  
 **Recipients:** steven.gerrard@anfieldhigh.co.uk

Fuck you.

*

It was almost like they were all in class again – Daniel sat beside Fernando, but not before coming in about 15 minutes late, Riise was stifling a big yawn as he rubbed his tired eyes, Alvaro was doodling on Yossi’s notebook while the Israeli stared on pitifully, Xabi was the only one taking down notes and Pepe was texting Yolanda under the table so that Rafa wouldn’t see. If there was anything unusual about this scene, it was that the captains, Stevie and Carra, were actually the first ones in the room, sitting in the frontmost chairs, arms folded on the tables and listening attentively. They would never be caught slacking off at anything that involved football.

“Sammy Lee will be arranging our summer training regime and friendlies,” Rafa was saying in front, “So, if anyone is going home or going away for the summer break, kindly raise your hands.”

Most of the foreigners did – Sami was going home to Finland, Riise to Norway, Yossi to Israel, Alvaro and Pepe to Spain.

“Well, aren’t we just the model United Nations,” Stevie sighed.

Carra nodded, “I was thinking more a United Colours of Benetton ad.”

“You would never get into a Benetton ad, la’.”

“You’re such a twat,” Carra elbowed the younger Scouser who was desperately trying to keep his chuckles down.

Rafa continued taking down the names. “Xabi?” He asked. Stevie stopped chatting with Carra almost immediately and swivelled in his seat to look at the Basque.

“No,” Xabi looked up from his notes and answered. “My parents are the ones coming in this summer,” he explained, smiling giddily. He hadn’t seen his parents since they visited during the winter break.

Stevie flashed Xabi a relieved grin. Xabi knew Stevie died every time the Basque had to go home for the summer break. Xabi grinned back at him, a faint blush spreading on his cheeks. He self-consciously fiddled with his hair and stared down at his notebook, fighting back a giggle.

It was impossible not to catch that interaction since Stevie was seated in the first row of seats, for practically all the world to see. Riise shoved his finger down his throat, pretending to gag, while Sami bit back his chortles and failed. Carra slapped the back of Stevie’s head.

“Christ, Carra!” Stevie snapped, massaging his head.

Carra sniffed. “You are embarrassing me.”

Meanwhile, Dan turned to face Fernando beside him.

“You’re not going away, right?” He asked solemnly.

Fernando looked away, strangely feeling awkward at all the undertones of that question. He shook his head and spoke quietly, “Nope.”

Dan sighed in relief and clapped Fernando’s thigh. Jumpy as ever, Fernando squirmed in his seat at the heavy touch. Dan’s palm was moist with sweat against the bare skin of his leg. He suddenly wished he didn’t wear shorts today even though it was balmy outside.

Fernando babbled on to retain some sort of functionality. “My mum’s been nagging me to go back to Madrid for the vacation, but I told her I wanted to stay here. You know, get to know Liverpool in the summer and all. When it’ll only be cold and raining every other day.”

Dan snorted. “I’m sure your mother would understand then.”

The Spaniard forced a tight smile and looked away, suddenly concentrating on carving lines on the desk with his thumbnail.

Dan glanced at Rafa and Sammy Lee to make sure they weren’t looking in his direction. Then, when he was sure he was safe, he wrapped his arm around Fernando’s waist and whispered in his ear discreetly, “Hey, I missed you last weekend. Didn’t hear from you at all.”

Fernando mentally pumped his fist triumphantly. But outside, he just shrugged nonchalantly, “Oh, really? I must have been busy.”

Dan looked hurt, but Fernando shielded himself from getting affected. He pretended to be intensely concentrated on Rafa’s lecture about how the summer did not excuse them from returning to training 20 pounds heavier.

“Hey,” Dan’s tone resembled a whine now as he nagged some more.

Fernando gritted his teeth as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. No, he was not going to lash out at Daniel for being a moody, erratic non-boyfriend. No, he was not going to feel humiliated and _hurt_ at the numerous ways he let Daniel take him. And no, he was not going to pounce on Daniel for being insanely irresistible when he was knocking Fernando down. 

Slowly, Fernando turned to face the defender and his voice was measured when he asked, “Yes?”

Dan’s mouth was curved downwards and tension read all over his face. He seemed to be fighting with himself about how to get the words out, but finally he just blurted ungracefully –

“Sorry? About...” Dan asked, biting his lip unsurely, unable to hold Fernando’s gaze for more than a second.

“About?”

“Well, I know that you...” Dan tapered off, and Fernando just waited expectantly, unwilling to throw a lifeline. The long stretch of silence did not do any favours for Dan who was getting more and more panicked and so, more and more unable to string two thoughts together.

Finally, Fernando just gave him a brief shake of the head and sighed with finality. “It’s not an issue.”

God forbid that their relationship would ever be stable. At least it was never boring. 

A small tapping on Fernando’s thigh just like they were back in their boring three-hour History lectures again. Fernando smiled ruefully to himself at memories of carefree, _mindless_ high school romance. When all Daniel wanted to do was woo Fernando; and when all Fernando wanted to do was fall for Dan.

“Let’s hang out today.” Dan said, glancing at the Spaniard hopefully.

And never has Fernando been so averse to those words, but maybe he was still hurting from the last time they ‘dated.’ He froze and his eyes widened and he was shaking his head before he even knew what he was doing.

Dan was already trying to explain himself in a bid to get Fernando to change his mind, but the Spaniard cut him off with rushed alibis, “I can’t. Rafa is... asking me to run extra laps.”

“I’ll run with you,” Dan quickly volunteered.

“Yeah, but... uh, I’m doing something after.”

“Oh. For the whole day?”

“Yeah, for the whole day.” Fernando sighed and looked away. His mood was souring more and more with every lie he felt compelled to say. He added a bit coldly, “I’m sorry.”

Dan pursed his mouth as he pondered over what to say next. His gaze was hard. His eyes were stormy and his brows were knitted together harshly. It wasn’t anger, really. More like frustration that was palpable in Daniel’s face. Like he was defeated, but that he knew it was only right that he was, but it didn’t mean he had to like it. His hand dropped from Fernando’s waist like a deadweight.

“Fine,” Daniel harrumphed, although he followed it up with a request: “But text me if your day suddenly frees up, yeah?”

Fernando nodded, but he trained his eyes on the weathered wood of their study table so he wouldn’t have to look at his lover. Did he miss Daniel? God, yes. But did he feel like having mindless, heartless sex with him today? No, not really. Right now all he wanted was to turn up the air conditioning in his room, pull down the blinds and wrap his blanket around him and watch old cartoons. Good, old-fashioned comfort. Something Daniel was not really good at, but Fernando had long accepted – or given up on. But it didn’t mean he didn’t need it.

Shutting his eyes, Fernando shook his head, mostly in disbelief at himself and the situation he had walked into.

He officially needed an outlet.

But if he told Harry that Daniel was only using him as a booty call, Harry would only tell him ‘I told you so’ with that smug Australian scoff of his. And then, he would push Fernando out the door and into Dan’s arms because, well, Harry was not averse to sex.

Pepe, on the other hand, would not want to hear about his sex life, ever. End of.

Stevie would be too busy waiting on Xabi, hand and foot.

And Sami... Sami was a die-hard member of the Daniel and Fernando fans’ club. He would just offer him sappy advice and a charming anecdote and play a love song in the background until he got Fernando to make up with the Dane. And Fernando was not done being raw and petulant.

He sighed. Looks like it was a day for watching old cartoons then.

*

“Hey,” Stevie greeted, striding up to Xabi who was packing his things back into his bag. Rafa had just adjourned their squad meeting. 

Xabi looked up from stuffing his pens in his pencil case and smiled at the Scouser, “Hey, Stevie.”

“Leaving so early?” Stevie asked, a little breathless and giddy. “Me and the boys were planning to have a kickabout.”

 _The boys and I_ , Xabi immediately corrected in his head. Instead, he just went back to fixing his notebook. “Sounds tempting, but I have class,” he said, smiling sadly.

Stevie frowned. “But doesn’t your class start about an hour from now?”

Xabi shrugged, already putting the last of his papers in his folder. “Everyone arrives early to work on the problem sets.”

It was so abrupt, the change in Stevie’s mood. From bouncing on his heels to sagging at the shoulders. Xabi felt his heart break a little for his ex-boyfriend. He reached out to touch the Scouser’s shoulder. “Go on, love. Enjoy your kickabout. It looks like such a glorious day out.”

And just like that, Stevie’s entire aura brightened – it was so easy for Xabi to make him happy. “Okay. And you?”

Xabi sighed exaggeratedly. “And I will suffer in class. Score a goal for me, yeah?”

The Scouser was blushing all the way to his ears. “Of course. Text me after your class if you’re free?”

Xabi grinned back. “Definitely.”

Stevie leaned forward then stopped, then hesitated, then leaned in again and almost tripped on his own feet. He placed a quick peck on Xabi’s cheek. The Basque felt the heat radiating from the point of contact, warming up the rest of his body. Xabi was sure his foolish grin mirrored Stevie’s.

“Have fun,” Stevie said, walking with Xabi to the door and pushing it open for him.

Xabi dawdled, uncontrollably fidgeting from one foot to another, unsure if he wanted this moment to end just yet. Unfortunately, that meant they were both blocking the entrance and no one could pass.

“Oy!” Riise hollered in annoyance, trying to sidestep around the two but to no avail.

Stevie shot him a dirty look, but Xabi just put a restraining hand on the Scouser’s arm. It immediately stole Stevie’s attention away and calmed him down.

“It’s okay, I’ll go ahead already,” Xabi said. “Good bye?”

Stevie was smiling so hard, he could well have been laughing. “Good bye.”

“Jesus Christ!” Riise cried out in exasperation, throwing his hands up in the air.

*

The long corridor of the East Annex stretched endlessly until it came to an end at Room 1214 and the boy in front of it standing all by his lonesome. Xabi had been rooted there for a long time, unable to make a move. From the little glass pane of the door, he saw Harry inside by himself, sitting at the teacher’s table, reviewing his lecture notes, uneaten sandwich in hand.

Harry hadn’t moved from his spot one bit. For some strange reason, Xabi felt like staying still too.

Finally, he took a deep breath and just pushed open the door. Harry looked up in mild surprise, but it quickly morphed into full-blown shock as he saw who it was.

“Xabi.” The Australian could only blurt out. He checked his watch to see if he was mistaken, “Class doesn’t start for an hour.”

Xabi bit his lip and looked at his sneakers – let himself be briefly amused by the fact that he didn’t have to wear his black leather shoes to summer school – before replying. “We had a squad meeting this morning and we finished early. It didn’t make sense to head home, so I thought I could just go straight to our class and...” he trailed off lamely, “do some reading.”

Harry still looked sceptical, but his haunches lowered slightly. “No, sure, sure. Go ahead.” He gestured to the seat Xabi always sat in. The Basque nodded and practically scampered to his chair, looking down at the linoleum floor all the way.

Harry buried his face in his lesson plan. Xabi hid behind his handouts. Harry bit into his sandwich so he would have an excuse to stay silent. Xabi nibbled on his thumbnail. Harry checked his watch again. Xabi began to regret arriving early.

Finally –

“Have you had lunch?”

At the same time as –

“About last week’s topic.”

Xabi and Harry both stopped and tried again.

“What about atoms?” and “No, I’m full.”

Xabi cracked a small smirk and he shook his head. “You go first.”

Harry tried to return the smile but anxiety just read all over his face. Xabi had never seen him look so unconfident.

The Australian summoned calmness from every fibre of his being. “Have you eaten?”

Xabi shook his head. Then, he realised that meant he had just admitted he had chosen to skip lunch just to be in an empty classroom in an empty hallway in a practically empty school building... with Harry Kewell. Fuck.

If Harry discovered that, he didn’t show it. Instead, he just gave a half-shrug and an impish smile. “I... have a ham and cheese sandwich?”

Xabi shook his head immediately, “No, no, you have it. You need it. You still have to teach.”

Harry laughed. “Yeah, and you have to bear with me teaching.” He unwrapped his sandwich and tore it in half, “Go on, I insist.”

Xabi debated about it many, many times in his head, while Harry just looked at him expectantly. Finally, the Australian rolled his eyes and stood up, making his way to Xabi’s chair, hand extended and sandwich proffered.

Xabi’s cheeks burned. He stood up too – he figured he’d already created too much fuss guilt-tripping Harry into offering him half his lunch, he didn’t want to make the Australian have to feed it to him too.

“Fine, fine, I’ll take it,” Xabi relented, walking up to Harry until the two met at the centre of the room.

“Good,” Harry smiled, offering him the bigger half.

Xabi raised an eyebrow, but Harry silenced him with a hiss. “Just take it?”

The Basque nodded. He looked at Harry’s hand opened out in front of him, and he gulped. His fingers were cold as he reached for the food. “Thanks,” he murmured. “And, sorry.”

Harry’s tone sounded so odd, faraway. His eyes flickered up, holding Xabi’s gaze for a moment then dropping it quickly. “You don’t have to apologise.”

Xabi flinched. “...Actually I think I do. Apologise, I mean.”

Harry scrutinised the Basque. He took a step back cautiously and asked, “Why? What is it?”

Xabi drew in a long, shaky breath. He began carefully, “I’m sorry about last night, I guess.” He buckled, “Not ‘I guess,’ actually. I _am_ sorry. About the drinking game and the questions and the teasing... I didn’t mean for it to be so awkward and...”

“And honest?” Harry asked.

There was a moment’s hesitation, and that was the only sign of acknowledgment that Harry actually said something. Xabi did not dare agree or disagree to his suggestion.

“I know you want nothing to do with me. It’s only fair.” Xabi continued. His palms were beginning to sweat around the sandwich half he was grasping. “I just want you to know, I _am_ trying to hold up my end of the bargain.”

Harry’s blood ran cold. It was easy to tell Xabi to leave him alone – he was mad and the Basque was unrepentant. He was beginning a new relationship with Finns, Xabi was rekindling the old flame with Stevie. They both didn’t need to remember each other.

But when you saw each other everyday for the past week and a half, in a tiny classroom, in an empty hall, in a closed school, where there was no Steven Gerrard or Stephen Finnan, and for once you had an excuse to acknowledge the other without the baggage that came with it...

Harry couldn’t believe he was getting what he thought he wanted.

He turned on his heel and slowly made his way to the teacher’s desk. His limbs felt heavy and leaden. He threw his half of the sandwich on the tabletop, his appetite all but forgotten now.

Xabi must have taken that to mean something else – dismissal, rejection or indifference. He frantically began trying to explain himself even more.

“I didn’t mean to be in your class, I swear, Harry.” Xabi pleaded. “I tried to look for a class that I was sure you wouldn’t be teaching – that’s why I didn’t enroll for Maths even though I needed the extra lessons. And I didn’t take English either because I knew you wrote for the paper. And I figured Chemistry was a safe bet, you know? Not that I didn’t think you weren’t any good at AP Chem, because apparently you are.”

 _Don’t look up._ Harry chanted to himself like a mantra. He stared at his open notebook in front of him until the ink started to squiggle into lines in his eyes. _Don’t look up to see Xabi rambling and flustered and if you do look up, Harry Kewell, stay seated for the love of all things holy._

“Harry,” Xabi urged. Suddenly he was right in front of Harry’s desk, and the Australian had to look up despite all his efforts not to do so.

“What?” He answered feebly.

Xabi tried to kid. “At least you know now why I’m stuck in AP Chem when I so obviously suck at it?”

Harry allowed himself a small snort. “You don’t suck at AP Chem – not really. You still suck at Advanced Algebra more.”

Xabi chuckled too. “I just keep making all these stupid mistakes in the problem sets.”

“They’re not stupid mistakes!” Harry protested quickly. He thought back on Xabi’s submitted assignments, “It just... doesn’t come as naturally to you compared to the other subjects you excel in. But it’s nothing you don’t overcome with sheer will.” Harry scratched at the varnish of the teacher’s table as he shyly added, “Besides, you’re still the best one in our class anyway.”

Xabi blushed. “It’s nothing.”

Harry shook his head and insisted. “Yeah, you are.” It was old Xabi again. Grade-conscious and competitive but so reluctant to be praised for it. Fucking twisted. All throughout high school, Harry soaked up all his glory and then milked it some more.

They vaguely heard the classroom door open on the other side of the room. A couple of the other students walked in.

Xabi held up the sandwich Harry gave him. It was now soggy because of his sweaty palms, making the mayonnaise run messily on to the napkin wrapped around the bread.

“Thanks for lunch?”

Harry raised his bread too, as if to toast it right back with Xabi’s. “No problem.”

And before he could clamp down on his tongue, the words had already tumbled out. “By the way, the next lunch is on you, Alonso.”

Xabi’s eyes widened fractionally as he struggled to hide his surprise. Nevertheless, he nodded and smiled shakily before hurrying back to his seat.

When the Basque was a safe distance away, Harry hid his face behind his lesson plan and groaned. Sometimes he was too slutty for his own good.

*

“What are you still doing here?” Carra asked as he bumped into Fernando in the school gym.

“Just putting in some extra work,” Fernando lied, hiding himself behind a rack of weights and pretending to read the labels intently.

Carra nodded slowly. “Thought you’d be out enjoying the sun or something,” he jutted his thumb to the window where the light was pouring in generously. “This weather is rare, you know. Shouldn’t be spending your afternoon inside.”

Fernando frowned as he was reminded again that, yes, it was a great day out and yet here he was, holing up in school by himself.

“Do you wanna go for a run outside instead?” Carra asked.

Fernando’s cheeks grew warm at the defender’s pity. He picked up a pair of barbells from the shelf, “Nah, it’s okay, I was really planning to work on weights today...”

Carra sussed, and Fernando knew he didn’t convince him at all.

“Come on, I’ll run with you.” He offered.

A small, embarrassed smile crept on the Spaniard’s face. “...You don’t have to – ”

Carra rolled his eyes and immediately cut him off before the situation got any sappier. “Just get your trainers on, la.”

Fernando chuckled out loud. “Thanks, Carra, you’re such a – ”

Carra plugged his ears and turned away. “Just shut up and go!”

Fernando laughed as he made his way back to the locker room, “Okay, okay! I’m going!”

When they finally got outside, they eased into a brisk walk first. They strode side by side around the perimeter of the pitch, waiting for their muscles to warm up.

Fernando smiled to himself and tilted his face toward the sun, eyes closed and enjoying the heat upon his skin.

“So, how’re you doing?” Carra asked.

The Spaniard’s mood dampened a little. He didn’t open his eyes just yet, trying to avoid Carra’s gaze. “Well, Daniel and I are – “

Carra placed a heavy hand on Fernando’s arm, grabbing his attention.

“I asked how _you_ were.”

Fernando blushed. He didn’t even notice the automaticity of his answer. “Oh, alright. Yeah, I... I’m good.”

“Yeah?” Carra smirked. “How’s Liverpool treating you? One year in the city almost.”

Fernando nodded. “Liverpool’s been great.” He briefly paused, sure that Carra was disappointed with his textbook answers, especially when the Scouser was making an effort to reach out. Fernando made an effort to explain, “Moving here, I didn’t think I’d really make friends cos it was a new country, you know? So, I’m pretty glad with how things turned out.”

Carra nodded in understanding. “I don’t think you were really the type who’d have such a hard time making friends anyway.”

Fernando’s eyebrows rose. The Scouser had to laugh at the mixture of flattery and embarrassment and surprise and confusion in the younger boy’s face.

“Well, for one, you’re a striker – and a pretty damn good one at that – so you’re always going to get the lion’s share of the glory. And even if you weren’t, you’re still a decent lad.” Carra smiled mischievously, “And even if you weren’t a decent lad, the ladies would still fancy the pants off you anyway.”

Fernando laughed. “Wasn’t always that way. Back in Spain, I was the awkward kid.” He raised his arms to demonstrate, “I was tall and thin and my limbs were spindly and everything. And I wore my hair in curtains. It was so horrible.”

Carra snorted at the mental image. Fernando added, “Not to mention that I was a die-hard Atletico supporter when Real Madrid were winning trophies left and right.”

Carra nudged him with his elbow. “I was an Everton fan,” he shared simply.

Fernando’s eyes were wide, “No.”

“Yeah.”

“And look at you now.”

Carra grinned. “Look at me now.”

They shared a fleeting, goofy grin, before Carra went back to business and ordered in his usual captain’s tone. “Let’s start jogging.”

They quickened their pace and lengthened their stride. Fernando teased in between short puffs of breath, “Should I slow down so you can catch up?”

“Just because you’re fast doesn’t mean I can’t knock you off your feet, boy,” Carra challenged.

The striker laughed, “So I guess that means I should slow down.”

There was a long stretch of silence that started to become hollow, and it forced the Spaniard to speak up again, “Is this the part where I’ll crack and end up talking about Daniel?”

Carra laughed. “It’s inevitable.”

“That’s sad, right?”

“Yes. But, go right ahead.”

Fernando sighed, and his shoulders sagged as he jogged. “I’m overthinking it, right? The same way I keep overthinking that something... could still happen between Daniel and Finns? Like, I’m always so scared of it, I’m getting paranoid.” Carra raised an eyebrow, but allowed the Spaniard to continue.

“I’m with Daniel now, and this is what I’ve always wanted. But, I keep thinking, is this all there is to it? We hang out some of the time, we have sex all of the time” – Carra made a face – “And that’s all? All the hard work and the heartache of last year so I could have a regular fuck buddy? Am I just being naive and idealistic if I also want the gooey, fluffy kind of romance?”

“Wow, when you rant, you really can keep going and going,” Carra remarked dryly.

Fernando smirked, “I have a lot of angst.”

“We’re teenagers. It’s our only reason for existing. Why do you think I shout all the time?”

They laughed and jogged faster.

“Well?” Fernando prodded.

“What do you mean, ‘well’?” Carra asked, his face starting to get redder from exertion.

“Well, what do you think?”

“What, you want my advice?” Carra demanded. There really was no middle ground for him – it was either calm or angry.

Fernando blinked and answered guiltily, “But I thought that was why you wanted me to tell you about my angst.”

Carra shook his head vigorously. “No, I wanted you to get it off your chest. I didn’t say nothin’ about giving advice. I don’t know shit about these things!”

“Oh.” The striker said softly. “Okay. Thanks for listening then.”

Carra looked over at the other boy, and he was staring intently at the grass beneath his feet, deep in thought. Carra sighed exasperatedly. Did Fernando have to look like a lost puppy every time he didn’t get what he wanted?

Carra’s voice was flat when he spoke up again, “This... physical relationship you have with Daniel right now, don’t you want it?”

Fernando hid behind his shoulder as he blushed deeply. “I... want anything he’ll give me?” He answered awkwardly.

Carra rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ, lad!” He cried out in disbelief, swinging out his arm to slap Fernando behind the head with a little too much force.

“Ouch!” Fernando yelped, stumbling forward at the blow.

Carra came to an abrupt stop, yanking Fernando back too so they could stand face to face. The Spaniard was still grimacing and rubbing the back of his head, but Carra was no-nonsense.

“Look, if you want this kind of fluffy love crap, then you deserve it.” Carra stated simply. He added with a hint of disgust and disappointment, “I don’t know why anyone really settles for anything less than what they want.” 

Fernando stared at him, stunned. “...Really?”

Carra started jogging again. “Don’t be slow.”

*

“Am I darker?” Fernando asked as he emerged from the shower, drying his hair with a towel.

Harry came closer to inspect his upper arm. He snorted, “Not even a hint of a tan line.”

“What? I spent an hour jogging under the sun!”

Harry shrugged, “Yeah, you did look like a lobster when you arrived. Sorry, but I think you just turn red, not brown.”

“Dammit,” Fernando cursed.

“So, pre-season training’s started already?” Harry asked, returning to his desk chair where he was watching Skins on his laptop.

“Nah,” Fernando said, pulling up his chair next to Harry’s so he could watch too, “I just ran some extra laps with Carra.”

The speed at which Harry turned around to stare at him was incredible.

“...What?” Fernando asked cautiously.

“You know, I should start a gossip column for the school paper.” Harry said. He spread his arms in the air as he envisioned the spread, putting on an announcer’s voice as he boomed, “With no games in the off-season, the football team gets down and dirty off the pitch instead.

“Golden boy leads the pack by working his way through the squad – not contented with the Brute Defender, he also goes through Captain Fantastic as some of our sources have confirmed in confidence. And now, he’s going for none other than Vice-Captain Ballistic. He’s surely dreaming of a team of Carraghers now.”

Fernando was not amused. “Vice-Captain Ballistic? Really?”

Harry beamed proudly. “Rhymes with ‘fantastic,’ so why not?”

“Uh-huh, tell me more gossip, journo.”

Harry put on his announcer’s voice again and gamely continued, “And in light of our Graduating Finn’s impending departure, it looks like Rafa the Gaffa is looking into Eastern Europe this time for reinforcements. Looks like Ballistic and Brute Defender will have some competition next school year.”

“No way,” Fernando’s jaw dropped and his eyes twinkled in fascination. “What other transfer news did you hear?”

Harry zipped his lips, “Sorry, it’s all confidential until Rafa the Gaffa gives out the new football scholarships.”

Fernando relented, “Fine, fine. How was class today?”

Harry sighed heavily and dropped his chin on his hand. He continued dully, “And our last bit of dirt for today? Midfield Maestro gets spotted lining up next to somebody else other than his Usual Partner. Who is he making passes to? And what new formation is he orchestrating now?”

Fernando laughed, clapping. “You’re good!” He stuck out his tongue teasingly, “...And, you’re doomed.”

Harry smiled wryly, “Catch us again next week at the Oracle. Watch this space.”


	8. No two people feel the same thing at the same time

_So, do you think I should start dropping hints again until Daniel asks me out on a proper date?  
Sender: Fernando Torres, 2:35 PM_

_Ask him out yourself.  
Sender: Jamie Carragher, 2:36 PM_

_What? No!  
Sender: Fernando Torres, 2:36 PM_

_That would be embarrassing!  
Sender: Fernando Torres, 2:37 PM_

_But I am gonna be waiting forever if I wait for Daniel to ask me, right?  
Sender: Fernando Torres, 2:37 PM_

_RIGHT?  
Sender: Fernando Torres, 2:38 PM_

_You really think I should?  
Sender: Fernando Torres, 2:38 PM_

_I really think you should  
stop flooding me with text messages.  
Sender: Jamie Carragher, 2:38 PM_

*

“This is the beginning of a new chapter in my life, Fernando.” Harry announced solemnly.

Fernando glanced at his roommate sceptically. “The new chapter in your life... begins in a mall?” He snorted as they got on the escalator. “Must be some chapter.”

Harry’s mood could not be dampened. “Don’t be such a smart-ass,” he retorted. He breathed in deeply and smiled excitedly to himself. “I’m moving to the States in a little over a month. Everything has to be prepared. Everything has to be perfect.”

“...Which is why you dragged me to the mall today?”

“Basically, yes.”

Fernando huffed. He had wanted to sleep in that morning, but Harry snatched the pillow from under his head and switched off the air-conditioning a few minutes after.

The Australian had basically ordered: “You’re coming with me to Liverpool One.”

Fernando whined as he tried in vain to cover his eyes from the sunlight, “Summer means not having to get up earlier than 10, dammit!”

Harry had simply rolled his eyes and swatted Fernando’s hands away from his face. “I’ll get you coffee?”

Fernando dropped his arm down and stared at Harry sleepily. “Fine,” he sighed. “I’m easy.”

And so there they were in Liverpool One, practically the first people to enter the mall the second it opened. The floors were still sparkly and some stores still had their doors padlocked.

“You know, I’m not the type of person who really gives into insecurity.” Harry began, settling into an easy pace as they wandered the mall.

“Huh.” Fernando said dryly. “You don’t say.”

“But somehow, moving to the States makes me feel kind of nervous.” Harry admitted. Fernando glanced at him, and even if it was just a tiny, tiny part of Harry that was confessing this in all sincerity, Fernando let himself believe him.

“You’ll be fine.” The Spaniard said.

“No.” Harry replied with a little too much certainty. “Like, what if I don’t make any friends?”

“Harry, you’re _Australian_. Really, the only life change you’ll have to adjust to is understanding English with that horrible Stateside accent.”

Harry waved him off. “No, this is a very delicate matter.” He ushered Fernando into JJB Sports, explaining plainly, “You know, the reason I was popular in high school was because I was a varsity member of the football team. I was the most promising winger of my batch, if I could say so myself.”

Fernando bit his lip to keep from laughing. He pointed out as gently as possible, “Harry, you retired from football halfway through high school. The closest you’ve come to the football pitch since is sitting on the sidelines, waiting for a post-match interview.”

Harry stopped walking and put his hands on his hips. “Are you here to help me or not?!” He demanded.

Fernando laughed sheepishly. “Well, you did only drag me to this shopping trip.”

Harry snapped, “You know, Fernando, sometimes it’s not all about you.”

Fernando had a full school year to practise his patience when Harry was in this kind of mood. He relented goodnaturedly. “Fine, fine. You were saying?”

Harry huffed. “As I was saying, I can’t rely on the same football formula anymore. I mean, we all know these Americans have yet to be enlightened about it. Until then, it’s still called soccer. And nobody wants to be friends with a _soccer player_.”

Fernando was afraid to ask Harry to continue, but the Australian was already marching into a section far, far from the football one.

“What do you say we put up a basketball hoop in our dorm room?” Harry asked brightly.

Fernando barked out a short, disbelieving laugh. But Harry just stared back at him, wide-eyed and expectant.

“No, really?”

“Yeah!” Harry grabbed a basketball from the shelf and experimentally bounced it off the floor. “I mean, it’s much more hollow and hard... and it is this ugly shade of orange.”

“Basketball?” Fernando squeaked, his face turning pale. He tentatively poked the basketball with his toe. It didn’t roll right.

“Yeah. I need street cred. For my homies.”

Fernando wiggled his eyebrows. “Are you good with your hands?” He swiftly passed the basketball to Harry. The Australian just about caught it with both hands before it hit his chest.

Harry winked, “Baby, you know it.”

The Spaniard laughed. He took one of the smaller basketballs and tossed it from one hand to another. “As brilliant as this plan is, maybe you should have a Plan B. I’m just saying.”

“Really?” Harry frowned in disappointment.

“Come to think of it, it wasn’t really sports that made you insanely popular in high school.”

“Then what did?”

Fernando bit his lip. “Well, it was kind of the fact that you... shagged everyone?”

“So you’re saying, I should start shagging these American boys and girls?”

“Maybe. Yeah. Open them up to the wonders of the Australian outback.”

Harry rubbed his chin. “So, I’ll shag the girls and play basketball with the boys.”

“And when you can’t beat the boys at basketball...”

“Maybe I will shag them too.”

“Yes.” Fernando snapped his fingers.

Harry nodded, a small smile spreading across his face. “Finns may not necessarily approve of this plan, but it does sound very promising.”

Fernando grinned back, “Well, Finns already hates me anyway.”

Harry tried to roll up the basketball onto his foot and bounce it up in the air. It fell limply on his sneaker then dropped pitifully on the floor.

Fernando stared at Harry sympathetically. “Yeah, maybe you should get a small basketball set.”

Harry supplied, “Just for practise. Nothing wrong with that.”

The striker grabbed a small basketball hoop and plastic ball from the shelf. “We can make do with this one!”

Harry smiled and checked the price. “Genius. Let’s pay!”

The pair went to the cashier and lined up behind two little girls fighting over their Barbie dolls.

“So, I’ve been talking to Carra,” Fernando began.

“Unless it was about football – which I doubt – I’ll have you know that was probably a bad idea.”

Fernando frowned. “It was about Dan.”

Harry rolled his eyes but beckoned his roommate to go on.

“Carra thinks I should just go and ask out Daniel. He said I shouldn’t feel embarrassed if I want more in my relationship with Daniel. And that I should fight for it because I deserve it.”

Harry sighed and put his arm around the striker’s shoulders. “Thoroughly inspiring, yes, but devoid of any logic.”

Fernando’s head shot up. “What? Why not?”

Harry said, “Look, honey, I’m not against you getting what you want. There are just better ways to get it. And asking Daniel out is not one of them.

“He’s already complacent enough as it is, thinking he can just take what he wants from the relationship and not give anything in return. And you’re not even giving him any flak for it because you’re so scared of ruining what you have with Daniel because you waited so long for this to happen – which is honestly pathetic because there’s no use in holding into something if it isn’t worth it . Not even if you’ve fought for it as long as you have. ”

Fernando winced.

“Now, you’re going to ask him out on a date? Why are you even running after Daniel? You’re practically saying, ‘Hey, I’m perfectly okay with our set-up right now. I’m not complaining! Now why don’t you just throw down more scraps from the table and I’ll beg for it even more?’.” Harry imitated the Spaniard sarcastically.

Fernando blinked. Even the cashier stared at Harry in surprise. Harry snapped his fingers in front of her. “Hey, gorgeous, let’s get that beeping,” he ordered, pointing to the bar code reader in the cashier’s hands. The girl jolted out of her daze and clumsily punched in Harry’s basketball set.

“That’ll be £7.50.” She stammered, pushing her glasses up her nose.

“Now, see what you’ve done,” Fernando snapped at Harry, and not wholly just for what he had done to the poor cashier. “Must you always be needlessly cruel?”

Harry snorted as he dug into his wallet for some bills. “Cruel, yeah. But almost always right.” He tossed the cash on the counter and smiled sweetly at the cashier. “Right, love?”

“What... I...” The cashier was getting teary-eyed as she nervously counted Harry’s money, before depositing it inside the cash register.

“I’m right, right?” Harry prodded the girl.

“Harry!”

“No, yeah, you’re right, you’re right!” The girl nodded her head vigorously, afraid to draw even more of Harry’s ire to herself.

“Aww, you’re a doll.” Harry immediately turned from aggressive to charming. He glanced at Fernando, “Isn’t she a doll? She’s a doll.”

The cashier giggled nervously, as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Here’s your change,” she said, shakily handing Harry a couple of coins.

“Keep the change, dear,” Harry smiled sweetly, gently pushing the cashier’s hand away.

Fernando rolled his eyes and grabbed the paper bag from the counter. “Leave the poor girl alone, Harry.”

“I was just saying she was – ”

Fernando was already stalking out, yelling, “I said, let’s go, Harry!”

Harry shook his head at the cashier. “Forgive my friend, he’s very rude.”

“Ha-have a nice day!” The girl chuckled self-consciously as she waved at the two retreating boys wistfully.

The Australian jogged up to Fernando who was now waiting for him in front of JJB Sports.

“I told you. Harry Kewell. Sex machine. Couldn’t even spare the store attendant.”

“I was just being friendly.”

“Well, you go and be friendly in the States then. I think it will be a formula for success.”

Harry beamed proudly, in spite of himself. He wrapped his arm around Fernando’s and ushered him to the escalator. “Fine, come on, I’ll treat you to some yogurt just because you’ve been partially useful today.”

*

Xabi was watching Harry attentively.

Wait, no. Xabi was watching Harry talk about atoms attentively. Right. Atoms. Because atoms are the building blocks of life and with that, they are utterly fascinating to Xabi as they should be to everyone else.

“Xabi?” The atoms asked. No, wait, that was Harry speaking. “Xabi?” Harry asked again.

Xabi shook himself out of his trance. “Yeah?”

“Pass your papers,” Harry reminded gently.

Xabi looked around. All his classmates were getting out of their seats and putting their things inside their bags. Harry watched him expectantly, a stack of papers already in his hands.

“Sure, sure,” Xabi babbled. He rifled through his desk to extract his coursework from underneath his notebook, making his pens roll off the side of his desk. The Australian immediately squatted down to retrieve them for Xabi, and the Basque instinctively moved his feet away, crossing his legs and hiding his scruffy loafers from plain view. He didn’t think he knew yet how to handle Harry near _any part_ of him.

“Nice pens,” Harry commented as he put them back on the desk. Only Harry would appreciate something as mundane as his pens, but Xabi was proud of them, thank you. They were sleek black sign-pens with tips exactly 0.3 inches wide, recommended only by architects and engineers for their clean and precise writing.

“Thanks,” Xabi smiled back. He clutched his notebook and his overflowing pencil case, “I didn’t realise the bell had rung!”

Harry lingered in front of the Basque’s desk. “You did look pretty preoccupied.”

“Sorry.” Xabi blushed. “Uh, is there anything more you wanted from me?”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Oh. No. No. You can leave now, if you want,” he said, gesturing to the door. Without even waiting for a response, the Australian returned to his table, obsessively shuffling the papers in his hands.

“Okay,” Xabi murmured. He zipped his bag, “Are you on your way out as well?”

Harry nodded, slipping the papers in a thick manila envelope, carefully labelled, “Homework: Atoms.” Harry couldn’t still quite meet Xabi eye to eye, but he did shoot a small grin in Xabi’s general direction. He joked self-effacingly, “It turns out whether you’re a student or a teacher, the dismissal bell is still the best part of class.”

Xabi nudged the Australian. “Hey, I think your class is interesting.”

“You’re probably the only one,” Harry rolled his eyes, but the smile didn’t leave his face. “But, thanks anyway.” He snapped closed the latches of his file case, then hefted his backpack on one shoulder. 

And because they were both making their way out, it was only inevitable that they would pass each other as they neared the door. Xabi instinctively stepped back, as was customary to give way to your teachers. But Harry just shook his head, “After you,” he said, gesturing forward with one hand. With another, he held the door open for Xabi – out of habit, Harry swore. Only out of habit.

“Have a nice weekend,” Xabi greeted, but then he noticed that Harry was just a few paces away from him, going the same direction. “You’re not headed back to your dorm?” Xabi asked. The dormitories were near the east entrance of Anfield High. Xabi, meanwhile, was going in the western direction.

Harry answered, “I was just gonna grab some lunch outside. I’m suddenly craving for pasta from Hen...”

 _Henrico’s._ Henrico’s Deli that was just a block from school. Right smack in the street Xabi took every day to walk to his bus stop. 

“Actually, you know, maybe I’ll just check if the canteen’s open. Maybe they’re serving lunch,” Harry said

Xabi raised his eyebrow. He could always see right through Harry.

“Harry, I’m sure we can handle walking down the same road together for ten minutes,” the Spaniard pointed out.

“No, it’s okay, I think they’re serving fish and chips today – ”

“Harry, come on. Things aren’t going to stop being weird between us if you don’t stop acting weird yourself.”

“Who’s acting weird?” Harry retorted defensively.

Xabi smiled sweetly in response.

Harry couldn’t bite back his smile too. He took a deep breath, as if to ready himself. “Fine, let’s go.”

It was completely silent during the start of the walk. Xabi and Harry’s footsteps echoed in the empty corridors, and they both stared straight ahead as they walked out of the East Annex. Out of habit, again, Harry opened the door for Xabi.

“I figured, I still owed you lunch.” Xabi began.

Harry’s forehead knitted together in confusion.

Xabi explained some more, “You gave me half your sandwich the last time, remember?”

Harry laughed, and for Xabi, that wide, carefree grin was just golden, framed against the blue skies of summer. It warmed him, melting away a layer of awkwardness.

“It’s okay, it was just a sandwich. Cost just a quid in the cafeteria.”

“I still don’t understand this – food isn’t provided for students who stay in the dorms, so you guys have to get all your meals outside?”

Harry replied. “Yeah. We mostly eat in the canteen though – it’s cheaper. When we’re not there, we just go to the usual: McDonald’s, KFC, Burger King. Sometimes, to a couple of pubs around the block.

“Fernando has it a little tougher though. I know Rafa puts the team on a stricter diet, so sometimes Fernando has to go to the restaurants to find more of the pasta and the lean meats.”

Xabi nodded along as he listened. It was fascinating the way he was relearning even the mundane parts of Harry’s life. “So, Fernando makes Dan take him out to restaurants?”

Harry smirked. He leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, “Daniel never takes him out.”

Xabi gasped. “No shit.”

“No shit.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Xabi muttered. “They went through all that drama last year just to get together, and now, the least they can do is hang out with each other.”

Harry patted Xabi’s shoulder in affirmation. “I know, right? I mean, if you liked someone, why wouldn’t you want to go out with him? I mean, it doesn’t even have to be anything fancy. You could just watch a movie, for crying out loud, which is practically dating for dummies.”

Xabi teased. “You’re one to talk. I’m sure you didn’t take all your conquests out on dates.”

Harry smiled innocently. “Just the unimportant ones.”

Xabi bit back a smug grin and gloated secretly in the knowledge that he has been taken out numerous times by Harry. He cleared his throat and asked, “Do you take Finns out on dates?” His tone was still teasing, but his eyes were alight with a morbid curiosity.

Harry made sure his voice steady and strong. “Of course I do. We’re going out tomorrow night, as a matter of fact.” He suppressed the immature side of him that wanted to ask back, ‘What will you be doing on a Saturday night?’

“That’s good,” Xabi answered; his face placid.

They walked for a long stretch in stony silence. They trudged through the parched lawn of Anfield High, the grass crunching beneath their feet. Then they crossed the driveway and passed the school gates. Suddenly, the calmness from inside the campus was obliterated, and they were met by a wall of sound – cars honking, people talking, the general pitter-patter of daily life. The only ones who were quiet were Harry and Xabi. They waited patiently by the sidewalk, waiting for the stoplight to turn red.

“You know, I didn’t mean anything with my question about you and Finns.” Xabi said, scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the pavement. “I just wanted to know how you were doing. It’s been a really long time since we talked... like this.”

Harry sneaked a glance at Xabi, to see if he looked like he meant it, if Harry just wasn’t putting meaning where there could have been none. The Basque stubbornly kept his head down, staring – no, glaring – at the pavement. He scraped the sole of his sneaker harder against the asphalt now. It made a dull, scratching sound.

Xabi only stopped when the stoplight turned red and the pedestrian sign turned green. He immediately jumped to the street to cross, pulling ahead of Harry and the rest of the pack of commuters.

Suddenly, a bus came hurtling down the lane. Maybe it was trying to run the red light, maybe it was trying to reach the crowded bus stop first. Harry didn’t understand, but the one thing he knew was that it was going too fast and Xabi wasn’t looking.

The blare of the bus’ horn was deafening, and Xabi skidded to a stop as he saw the arriving vehicle. Harry didn’t know what pace he still had in his legs, but he lunged forward as fast as he could and with all his might and yanked Xabi back. He could hear the collective gasp of the pedestrians around him as Xabi stumbled back just in time, the speeding bus running by, a mere inches from them. It was so close that they felt the wind brush their faces as the bus hurtled through.

“Fucking wanker!” The lady beside them yelled at the bus driver.

That jolted Harry out of his daze. He checked right and left, then when he was sure all the cars were at a complete standstill, he pulled Xabi after him and they scampered shakily to the other side.

“I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” Xabi was already apologising the second they set foot safely on the sidewalk.

“I didn’t see the bus either. It just came quickly around the corner,” Harry explained, speaking over Xabi’s stammering to get him to quiet down.

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry, I was so stupid.” Xabi cursed, but Harry ignored him.

“Are you okay?” The Australian asked. He placed his palm flat against Xabi’s cheek – it was pale and cold to the touch.

Xabi nodded and took deep breaths, his panic slowly but steadily dying down. When he replayed the incident in his head, it really wasn’t as bad as he was making it out to be. Harry gently ushered him to the side so they wouldn’t block the flow of people.

“Thanks,” Xabi murmured, smiling weakly. Colour started seeping back into his face.

Harry allowed himself a small laugh, although he could still practically hear his heart slamming against his ribcage. “You’re welcome,” he answered.

Xabi dipped his head down, still embarrassed. Then his gaze instantly rested upon Harry’s hand tightly interlocked with his.

He didn’t even realise that Harry had taken him by the hand when he pulled him to safety. He didn’t even realise that he still hadn’t let go.

Harry followed his gaze. And he mustn’t have been aware of anything either, because when he saw their holding hands, his cheeks immediately reddened.

Xabi and Harry exchanged uneasy glances, then immediately let go of each other.

Harry shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers. Xabi self-consciouly pulled at his hair.

“So,” Xabi tried to think of a new topic to make the awkwardness dissipate. He babbled, “You never did tell me, what university have you chosen? Because I assume you got into all the schools you applied for.”

Harry had the decency to look embarrassed as he shrugged modestly. “I just chose to go to Columbia.”

“I heard they have one of the best Journalism schools in the world.”

Harry cocked an eyebrow. “How’d you know I was taking up Journalism?”

Xabi laughed, shrugging, “Lucky guess?” He averted his gaze as he began playing with a loose thread along the hem of his shirt. “Besides, you’re good at a lot of things, but none better than your writing.”

Xabi thought he could feel Harry studying him.

“You’ve never thought about deferring your acceptance for at least a semester? Or take a gap year?” The Basque asked. He tried not to sound so hopeful. “You could stay at Anfield High and continue teaching. I’m sure the faculty would love to give you a slot.”

Harry took a deep breath, letting the silted air fill his lungs, taking his time, taking it all in – Xabi, his future, the possibilities. Finally, he just shrugged and answered with finality, “Nah.”

Xabi raised his eyebrows in confusion.

“Sometimes, it’s best not to linger.”

The midfielder coughed. “Really, now.”

“High school is over,” Harry said. “We move onward and upward.”

Xabi laughed softly. “You were always better than me at” – he made quotation marks in the air – “moving onward and upward.”

Harry’s head snapped to the side and he stared at Xabi in disbelief. His thoughts fought for dominance in his head. _That’s not true!_ And, _what the fuck is that supposed to mean?_ Or, _you left me first._ And just like that, Xabi was fucking with his head again.

Harry was too caught up; he was running into other pedestrians, and he was stumbling over his own feet. Xabi placed a light hand over Harry’s arm and they both stopped walking. Pedestrians around them cursed as they struggled to go around them in the busy sidewalk.

“Listen,” Xabi said. His tone was firm and serious, and Harry had to blink a couple of times to focus. People passed all around them, it was dizzying. And Xabi’s perfume was rich and heady when mixed with summer sunshine and sweat – it was dizzying too.

“I’m listening,” Harry affirmed dumbly. He blinked a few more times.

“I really appreciate... all of this,” Xabi said shyly. “I know that the last time we talked, you made your feelings very clear that you wanted to have nothing to do with me.”

Harry opened his mouth to interrupt, but Xabi rushed on, “And I can do that. I can leave you alone – I know I owe you that much, at least. But,” he wrung his hands nervously, “I’m still happy you gave me another chance.”

The atmosphere was charged with emotion, and Xabi could read the conflict all over Harry’s face. He was impatient in cutting Xabi off.

“Xabi, the last time we talked, I was out of line,” Harry said, his eyebrows knitted together. But he sounded more angry at himself than anything else, “We were confronting each other in the bathroom at Carra’s party, for crying out loud. I had too many drinks, and I guess it was still too soon for me to come to terms with everything...” he trailed off, and Xabi wanted to take his face in his hands and make him smile again.

“I knew that,” Xabi said, and maybe he was beyond rational and mature behaviour now. He felt like a child bringing up past hurts, “But when I tried to talk to you again, you hung up on me.”

Harry stopped. “Wait, what? I did?”

Xabi snorted, and it was clear in his stormy eyes that he was still holding on to some bitterness about this. “Okay, so maybe you were drunk. And I was still drunk when I called you, anyway. But, I texted you after. I was hoping when you sobered up in the morning, you would get back to me, but you never did. I figured, maybe you weren’t completely out of line when you told me to stay away from you.”

Harry ran his hand through his hair, “I don’t even know what you’re talking about. I don’t remember any of this.”

Xabi huffed in frustration, “It was that night of Carra’s party!” He’d long been waiting to ask Harry about this – about why he didn’t even call him or even text him back, about how he didn’t even give him a chance to explain or to apologise – and now Harry was acting like this didn’t even happen. Was Xabi the only one who felt that was a pivotal moment of his summer?

Harry promised, “I’ll check my phone archives later. But I swear, I really have no idea what you’re talking about.” He gazed into the Basque’s stormy eyes and assured, “I wouldn’t have done that to you.”

Xabi pursed his lips and nodded slowly. Hesitantly, they both turned on their heel and started walking again. After a few metres down, Harry pointed at the sign of Henrico’s Deli.

“This is me.”

Xabi rubbed the back of his neck, “Okay. Uh, enjoy.”

“Um, take care to the bus stop?”

They stared at each other uneasily again, the same stolen glances they’ve grown accustomed to – made over drinking games , or behind Chemistry books, or across the cafeteria.

“Bye.” They both stammered out one last time. Harry couldn’t get into the deli fast enough, closing the door firmly shut behind him. What was that he was saying about moving onward and upward?

*

“Mikel, do you think... I’m moving onward and upward?” Xabi asked, padding into his brother’s bedroom that night.

Mikel looked up from his laptop. “Excuse me?”

“You know, do you think I’m moving forward?”

“Moving forward in life, in general?” Mikel asked, still clueless. “Or is this about something else that I should know about?”

Xabi plopped down on his brother’s bed. “Do you think it’s a good thing I’m getting back together with Stevie?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

Xabi shrugged, staring at his palms on his lap. “Should I just be moving on to a new chapter in my life?”

“If you got back together with Stevie...” Mikel chose his words carefully, “I would be happy for you, if that was what you really wanted.”

“You sound like you’re having second thoughts.”

Mikel winked. “No, _you’re_ having second thoughts. I’m just giving you my opinion.”

Xabi’s attention was caught now. He sat up straighter, “But you were always a fan of Stevie.”

Mikel sighed and put his laptop on hibernate – this could be a thorny conversation. “I am. I like Stevie for you. It’s just that I also think there might be a reason why you guys broke up.”

“Yeah. Harry.”

“No. What if Harry was just a symptom?”

“What do you mean?” Xabi asked suspiciously.

“You wouldn’t have found someone to cheat with if you weren’t looking.”

Xabi’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me! I wasn’t looking!”

Mikel’s jaw was clenched tightly. “Look, when you cheated with Harry, it was made with the conscious effort to deceive Stevie. You knew that if he found out, he was going to get hurt.” He pointed out, “So, this is barely about Harry as it is about you and Stevie.”

Xabi was getting defensive now. His face burned bright and his tone went up a pitch. “Stevie and I had no problems, until Harry came along.”

Mikel put his hands on his hips, “So, Harry was just really that special?”

He hated having to lecture his younger brother, putting him on the spot. But sometimes, Xabi could be very stubborn.

The midfielder crossed his arms over his chest. “No,” he retorted back with a little less conviction.

“It’s an ugly truth whichever one you choose, Xabier. So just pick one.” Mikel urged, “Maybe your perfect relationship with Stevie wasn’t so perfect at all, or you may have found this one, amazing guy in Harry that made you rethink your entire world?”

Xabi sighed heavily and answered with a question, “So you don’t think I should get back together with Stevie?”

Mikel shook his head and patted Xabi’s knee. “You should if you want to.” He emphasised, “But it’s not going to be a simple case of just putting things back together. You have to figure out what made you cheat on him in the first place.”

Xabi opened his mouth to protest, but his older brother cut him off –

“And if you have no problems in your relationship, as you insist, and it was really just Harry,” Mikel shrugged, “Then maybe it’s high time you learn to accept that, even if you get back with Stevie... your heart will always belong to someone else.”

Mikel didn’t expect to see hurt flash in Xabi’s eyes. He emphasised, “Someone else... who is already involved with your friend, and who will be leaving Liverpool in a month.”

“Right. Right. I wasn’t considering it.”

“So, are we good now?”

Xabi stood up, pre-occupied. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Mikel.”

Mikel eyed his brother carefully as he made his way out of the room in a daze. “Are you okay?”

Xabi forced a smile, “Yeah. I guess I just have to figure out a lot of things by myself first. Thanks, though.”

*

**Xabi Alonso and the Online Magic 8-Ball**

_**Just type in your question, click ‘Ask!’ and watch as the magic 8-ball reveals your answer.** _

_Is it strange that I’m consulting a toy?_

_Magic 8-Ball: Yes – definitely_

_Do you think I’m moving forward... in life?_

_Magic 8-Ball: My sources say no._

(Xabi snaps, “Fuck off.”)

_Do I still like Harry?_

_Magic 8-Ball: Better not tell you now._

(Xabi slaps the side of his computer, “What kind of answer is that!”)

_Should I continue trying to get back with Stevie?_

_Magic 8-Ball: Outlook good!_

(Xabi hides a small smile.)

_Will I be happy with Stevie?_

_Magic 8-Ball: Better not tell you now._

(Xabi yells, “What the fuck, that’s unfair!” Mikel knocks on his door to ask what’s wrong. Xabi closes the website and pretends to be studying.)

*

The Killers were playing loudly in the background and the air-conditioning was up at full blast. Finns and Dan lay on the Dane’s bed, taking shelter from the sweltering heat outside.

“Something’s wrong, you know,” Dan said. “Something’s wrong, but I just can’t put my finger on it.”

Finns rolled over on his side to glance at his best friend. “What’s wrong is that you still haven’t asked Fernando out on a proper date. Essentially, you’re both just fuck buddies until you do.”

Dan scowled at the ceiling. “I’m not just in it for the sex.”

Finns popped a Skittle into his mouth. “Yeah, yeah. Aside from all the shagging, I’m sure you both have _amazing conversations_ too. Big deal. Until there isn’t a relationship to speak of” – Daniel tried to interrupt, but the Irishman just spoke louder – “And _a future_ for the relationship as well, you’re both just practically fuck buddies.”

Dan huffed. “That’s so narrow-minded of you, Stephen.”

Finns rolled his eyes. “Yeah, let’s just do it your way and call it, _‘we have a thing’_ all the time.”

“I’m gonna ask him out!” Dan yelped.

“Uh-huh. Are you gonna ask him out within the next century?”

“Oh, real mature, Finns. Where’d you get that comeback? From grade school?”

“Yeah, let’s make this about me, Daniel Munthe Agger.”

“For the last time, I _am_ planning on asking Fernando out!”

“And for the last time – _when_?”

Daniel smothered his face with his pillow. “When I figure out how to.”

*

“Don’t do it.”

“I am doing it.”

“I said, don’t do it!”

Fernando stomped his foot, “Goddammit, Harry!” He stared at his mobile, looking absolutely torn.

Harry held up his thumb and used it as a marker to aim for their newly-installed mini basketball hoop. “Don’t do it, Fernando. Just drop your phone and walk away.”

“I’m just going to ask him out to pizza. Easy. Harmless. How bad could it be?”

Harry bent his knees unsurely, tossing the basketball from his left hand to the right. “It has all the potential of a trainwreck, okay.” He leaped on his toes and the basketball sailed gracefully into an arc... then hit the backboard with a loud smack.

Fernando chortled evilly. “Try again, hotshot.” He grabbed the ball from the floor and threw it in Harry’s direction.

Harry tried again, bending down lower, squatting wider. Then, he straightened and stretched at his knees, lunging forward and taking another shot. The ball missed the hoop entirely.

“Airball,” Fernando sang.

“Third time’s a charm.” Harry said, gritting his teeth. He grabbed the basketball and with closed eyes, flung it towards the general direction of the basketball hoop, with nothing but hope and a prayer.

There was a loud thud, and Harry opened one eye to sneak a peek. Their lampshade lay on its side on the table, miraculously still unbroken. Fernando dissolved into uncontrollable laughter now.

“Well, why don’t you try it?” Harry snapped, throwing him the basketball.

Once he calmed down, Fernando lined up next to Harry. He tossed the ball upwards then let it drop. Right before it hit the floor, he kicked up his right leg, the ball making solid contact with the front of his foot. It zipped in the air like a zinger, before dropping at the last second into the basket. It rattled the hoop only in the slightest bit.

Even Fernando looked surprised at himself.

“Fucking wanker, how did you do that?” Harry grumbled.

Fernando shot a smug grin at the Australian, “Magic.”

Harry held his hands up in the air. “Fine, fine. Ask Daniel out if it will make you happy.”

Fernando whooped, as he immediately dove for the mobile phone he left on his bed. Harry mumbled behind him, “Just don’t come running to me when this all blows up in your face, kid.”

Fernando shot him a silencing glare. He dialled Dan’s number and pretty soon, it was ringing ominously in his ears.

Harry jumped on the bed next to the Spaniard and tried to listen in.

“Harry!” Fernando pushed the other boy away, but Harry kept pressing in closer.

“I want to witness this! Put it on loudspeaker!”

Fernando rolled his eyes but relented. He put the call on loudspeaker just in time, because the next second, Daniel answered the phone.

“Hello?”

*

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Daniel rolled over so quickly, he almost fell off his bed. He searched the twisted and knotted sheets frantically, trying to look for his ringing phone.

“Fernando Torres,” the phone read the caller’s name out loud. “Fernando Torres.”

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Daniel started panicking even more, until he found his mobile stuck inside his pillowcase. “H-hello?” he greeted breathlessly.

Finns’ eyes widened, “I want to hear!”

Dan flipped him the bird and padded to his bathroom. He shut the door firmly behind him.

“Hey, Daniel,” Fernando chirped.

“Babe,” Dan tried to sound as calm as he could, “What’s up?”

“Is it just me or is it echoing?”

Dan rubbed his neck, “Yeah, Finns was trying to listen in on the call so I... locked myself in the bathroom.”

*

“Finns?” Harry whispered, with a raised eyebrow. Fernando elbowed him with a little too much force. The Australian shot him a dirty look and hissed quietly, “Well, don’t take your jealousy out on me. Look at me, do I look like I’m jealous about Dan hanging out with Finns? No.”

Fernando sighed in irritation – naturally, Harry had to make this about him. He rolled to his side and climbed off the bed to get away from his roommate.

“Still there?” Dan asked unsurely.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, sorry.” Fernando said, forcing himself to grin. “Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

*

Shit, this was it. Fernando was going to ask him about the date he promised. And he wasn’t ready, and he didn’t even know how boys did this. Was he supposed to just pop the question? And what would they do? Hang out at home like he and Finns usually did? Did he have to take Fernando out to a fancy dinner? I mean, that was what happened in movies, right? Dan wasn’t sure he could really afford that – and it wasn’t really their style. But then again, the last time Dan did something his style, he took Fernando to the park to drink and fool around. And the Spaniard didn’t look particularly happy about it. Shit. Shit shit shit.

“Listen, I was just wondering,” the Spaniard was saying.

Dan temporarily stopped breathing.

“Do you wanna go out tomorrow?” Fernando blurted out.

*

Dan was eerily silent for a long, long time. Fernando self-consciously looked over his shoulder – Harry was watching him carefully.

Fernando immediately started babbling, “I mean, no pressure, don’t worry. I was just thinking we could grab some pizza at the mall.”

When Dan still didn’t make a sound, the Spaniard trailed off, unable to hide the disappointment in his tone. “But if you’re not free tomorrow, it’s okay. It’s summer anyway, we don’t have to go out on a Saturday night. We can just set something up next week.”

*

Dan must have been staring at his shocked expression in the bathroom mirror for a full three minutes. He almost forgot Fernando was on the other end of the line.

“S-sorry,” Dan babbled dumbly, slowly but surely making his way out of his daze, “Sure, let’s go out tomorrow. Pizza sounds great.”

“Really?” Fernando asked hesitantly. “For a moment there, I thought you had disappeared on me.”

“No, no, I was just trying to remember if my mom planned a family affair for us this weekend,” Dan fibbed. “But it looks like I’m free.”

“Oh, that’s great,” Fernando sounded relieved over the phone. “It’s just that, we haven’t been hanging out much lately.”

*

Harry shook his head in disbelief as Fernando started rambling about how he thought Daniel was busy today, but since he was having Finns over, it probably meant he wasn’t _that_ busy, and if he wasn’t that busy, why wasn’t he spending his time with Fernando.

All logically sound and true, yes, but really not the way to go. Harry leapt after the Spaniard and in one swoop, he snatched the mobile from Fernando’s hand.

“Stop it!” Harry covered the mouthpiece and scolded Fernando.

“Harry, give me back my phone!” Fernando hissed back.

“Not until you get your act together!”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!” Fernando said, stealing his phone back.

“Is everything alright?” Dan asked. He was still on speakerphone.

Fernando laughed shakily, “Sorry about that. Can I call you later?” He squirmed away as Harry suddenly reached around him to grab his phone again. Fernando grunted, “Harry’s having some... issues.”

“Issues? Want me to get Finns for him?” Dan half-joked.

“No, it’s okay,” Fernando assured, struggling to shove Harry away with his free hand. “It’s a private issue.”

Harry heard the shift in Daniel’s tone. “A private issue?”

The Australian pushed himself up on Fernando’s shoulders so he could be heard on the phone. He moaned loudly, “Come back to bed, Nando.”

Fernando’s jaw dropped as he heard the words brush against the shell of his ear. He weaselled away from Harry so he could face him, horrified.

“Was that Harry?!” Dan demanded loudly over the line.

“Yeah, and he was just kidding,” Fernando hurriedly explained, trying to figure out how to switch off the speakerphone. “I-I’ll call you later.”

“Fernando...” Harry groaned throatily.

“Harry! What the – ” Dan was in the middle of yelling when Fernando cut the line.

“Harry! What the fuck?!” Fernando completed Dan’s sentence.

“What the fuck?” Harry asked back, “That was me saving the last shred of your dignity, okay, Torres?”

“By moaning into my phone?” Fernando snapped.

“Basically, yes. And it was the only time Daniel actually sounded like he _cared_. What, you think he was enthusiastic when you asked him out? Because all I heard was dead air.” Harry replied coolly.

Fernando looked hurt but he knew it was true. “You’ll see. Dan and I are going to have an awesome date tomorrow, and you’ll regret ever telling me that it was wrong to ask him out.”

“If you have a fantastic date tomorrow, it’s because of me,” Harry said. “Daniel’s going to be so jealous of me, he’ll be on his best behaviour when you meet up.”

“Are you always this self-centred?” Fernando asked wryly.

“Your sweet talk was great and all, but admit it, nothing beats a little power play. And Daniel is territorial and possessive – it’s basic instinct. It’s practically evolutionary! Men naturally just don’t like the thought of someone else peeing on their tree.”

“I’m not a tree, and you’re not peeing on me.” Fernando shook his head. “It grosses me out knowing that at this very moment, somebody thinks I am having sex with you.”

*

“Are you and Harry having any problems?” Dan stormed out of his bathroom, waving his phone in the air as if it were a smoking gun.

“Uh, not that I know of. Why?” Finns calmly flipped through a magazine.

“Okay, so he isn’t fooling around with Fernando, is he?”

“Probably not.”

“Because I know it’s probably a joke, but I wouldn’t put this past Harry either.”

“Excuse me, a little sensitivity please?” Finns looked up from the magazine to glare at Dan.

Dan sighed, “I’m going crazy, right?”

“Yes, you are, honey.”

“Fernando asked me out, by the way.”

Finns snorted. “Oh, snap. He asked you out _first_? He got so tired of waiting for you to work up the nerve, so he asked you out _first_?”

Dan shoved Finns out of his bed, “Do you want me to throw you out of my house or what?”


	9. You've got four and 20 hours

**Saturday, 6:30 AM**

Daniel clambered down the stairs with his eyes still half-closed. The house was still cold from the morning breeze, and his mom was still in her nightgown.

“Daniel?” His mother looked up from the pan of sizzling bacon. “Why are you up so early?”

Dan sighed and rubbed his eyes, “I have to get to school.”

“But honey, it’s a Saturday.”

The boy shrugged, “Rafa wants us to all come in for pre-season training, three times a week.”

Mrs Agger tutted, “I didn’t know that included weekends. Are you sure you can’t talk your coach out of this?”

Dan plopped down on the kitchen stool and stifled a yawn, “You know how Rafa is, mom. He’s very stubborn about his football.”

“Why don’t you just call in sick?” His mother asked, flipping the bacon to fry both sides evenly. The mouth-watering aroma of burning fat filled the room.

“I can’t, you know that.”

Mrs Agger shook his head. “You never got up early for your History classes last school year, and now you’re giving up your Saturday mornings for football? Daniel, you have to learn how to prioritise your – ”

Dan rolled his eyes. Never too early for a morning lecture. He zipped up his jacket, “I’d love to stay and chat, Mum, but I have to go.”

“Daniel! I’m still talking!”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow, I promise.” Dan offered.

“And why not tonight? Don’t tell me you’re going out again, young man.”

Dan scratched his head. “Kind of, yeah?”

“Did I give you permission?” His mother put her hands on her hips and glared at her son.

Dan smiled sheepishly, “Come on, mom.” Not that it mattered if his mom said no – tonight was The Night. Date Night. He wasn’t going to miss it.

“Be home before midnight?”

“1 AM?”

“Daniel!”

Dan sighed and grabbed his backpack from the floor. “Fine, fine. Midnight. Or 12:30.”

“If you’re not home before midnight, you’ll be grounded next week.”

Dan whined, “Mom, it’s summer! I’m already home half the time!”

Mrs Agger laughed patronisingly, “When you’re not in training, you’re with your friends. I bet Stephen’s mother sees more of you than I do.”

Dan rolled his eyes. “Okay, I’ll be home before midnight. And I’ll stay home all day on Sunday.”

Mrs Agger smiled. “Good. I’ll hold you to that, Daniel.”

Dan nodded, leaning over the counter to press a kiss to his mother’s cheek. “Got to run!”

“Grab some breakfast before you go!”

“I’m late, ma!”

“But I’m already making bacon!”

Dan glanced at his mother, “Bacon’s bad for me, mom.” He patted his firm stomach. “Give it to dad.”

Mrs Agger sighed, wagging her spatula at her son. “At least get something to eat! You’re getting too thin!”

Dan grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and took a big, crunchy bite. He offered a big, messy, toothy smile at his mom as proof. “Okay?”

Mrs Agger stifled her smile. “Okay.”

“Bye!” Dan yelled, breezing out their front door.

 

**7:15 AM**

Harry didn’t even have enough energy to open his eyes fully – he didn’t want to. The blinds were drawn so it was nice and dim inside his dorm room. The air-conditioning hadn’t timed out yet, so it was still cold. But Fernando was up. And it seems that if Fernando was up then the rest of the world had to rise and shine too.

“What in tarnation is with all that noise, Fernando?!” Harry yelled, and it shocked him how much strength he had in him.

“Good morning, Harry!” Fernando greeted from inside the bathroom.

“Will you keep it down?” Harry groaned, pulling his pillow over his face.

“Go back to bed,” Fernando snapped back, padding out of the bathroom in his briefs, bath towel slung over his shoulder.

“Jesus Christ,” Harry opened one eye to peek at their clock, “Why the fuck are you up so early?”

“Why else would I be up this early?” Fernando bent over to flip his hair down, patting it dry.

“Don’t tell me. Tonight is date night, right? You got so excited, you woke up extra early so you could deep condition your hair.” The Australian answered drily.

“Haha. You’re a fucking riot in the morning, Harry.”

Harry smirked to himself. “That’s what she said.”

Fernando muttered the customary, “Dirty old bastard,” and returned to dressing up. Harry rolled over on his side and stretched, groaning loudly as his body complained at being woken up too soon.

“Wait, so you really do have plans this early in the morning?” Harry asked, watching as the Spaniard slipped on his sleeveless training kit and his shorts.

“It’s called preseason training, Kewell.” Fernando dug into his sock drawer for his football socks, but found two mismatched ankle-length ones instead. “My life doesn’t revolve around Daniel.”

“Wow. Football training and Daniel Agger. I can see how those two are not related.” Harry remarked sarcastically. “You have clean socks by the laundry basket, by the way.”

“Thanks,” the blonde mumbled, grabbing a pair and plopping down on Harry’s bed to put them on.

“Excited for tonight?” Harry asked, scratching his cheek and sitting up.

“It’s just a date.”

“It’s your _first_ date.”

Fernando stopped halfway from unrolling his left sock to glare at the Australian. Naturally, Harry couldn’t resist goading him further.

“Has Daniel flaked on you yet?”

“Fuck you.” Fernando was getting annoyed.

Harry grinned and leaned forward so he could wrap his arms around Fernando’s waist. “Don’t be touchy,” he cooed, resting his cheek on Fernando’s back.

“No, _you_ stop being touchy,” his roommate answered back, disentangling himself coldly from Harry.

Harry’s jaw dropped. “What’s up your ass?”

Fernando sighed and his shoulders slumped. “Sorry. I’m just nervous.” When Harry grinned smugly, the Spaniard accused, “And you’re not helping!”

“Well, he’s already cheated on you before. It’s not going to get any worse than that.”

Fernando’s entire aura dimmed, and Harry had to laugh hysterically. “I say that with love and affection!”

“Go back to sleep! I liked you better that way!”

“I would say I didn’t mean it, but I did! I’m sorry!”

“I am leaving!”

 

**7:30 AM**

Fernando was still pissed when he left his room, stomping every step of the way.

“Morning, Fernando,” greeted Kenneth, another student who stayed on their floor.

“Morning,” he grumbled back, glaring straight ahead.

“Your friend’s downstairs.” Kenneth called after him.

The striker stopped walking. “Huh?”

“Your friend,” Kenneth repeated, shrugging. “He was picking a fight with Big Sam when I passed by.”

Fernando’s forehead furrowed, but it was too early in the morning to play guessing games. “Okay,” he just said noncommittally, walking down the corridor again.

When he got to the lobby of their dormitory, nothing seemed out of place - Mr Allardyce was at the reception, looking perfectly fine and dandy. He only made a slight movement when he recorded Fernando’s name on the time-in and time-out logbook, just to keep a record of their comings and goings.

“Hey, Big Sam,” Fernando greeted.

“Your friend’s here.” Big Sam said, still busy writing on his logbook.

“My friend?” Fernando echoed in confusion.

Mr Allardyce gestured outside with his pencil. Fernando leaned closer to the receptionist to follow his line of sight and get a closer look. The figure outside was slumped lazily on the steps, playing with an unlit cigarette. Fernando could barely stop himself from murmuring in disbelief, “Omigod.”

Fernando was already scampering outside when Big Sam hollered after him, “Tell him visiting hours only start at 8 AM!”

“Daniel!” The striker exclaimed in sheer surprise.

Daniel looked up, and when he saw Fernando emerge from the dormitory, he jumped to his feet. “Hey!” He opened his arms wide, and the Spaniard instinctively jumped into his embrace.

“Omigod, what are you doing here?” Fernando gushed.

“I was wondering if you wanted to grab breakfast with me,” he mumbled into Fernando’s neck.

Fernando pulled away just a few inches, “For real?” A small smile was already fighting to break through, and his cheeks were turning pink.

Dan grinned back, “Yeah. I didn’t know what time you were leaving for training, so I just waited here for you.”

“You should have called me!”

“But it would ruin the surprise!” Dan yelped back.

Fernando fidgeted restlessly, clapping his hands on his face to feel his heated cheeks. “Omigod, this is so strange. I feel so out of sorts!” He said, shoving Daniel playfully. “I don’t think I can handle surprises so early in the morning!”

Daniel shrugged sheepishly. “Well, I know I owed you a lot for being an ass recently, so.”

Fernando had to look away and stare at his shoes. He was blushing too much to be taken seriously. “Breakfast sounds great, then,” he replied shyly.

Dan beamed right back at him, then he took Fernando’s arm and linked it with his. “Your dorm monitor is a fucking Nazi, you know that?”

Fernando laughed, and he was probably laughing too loud and too long and too freely for a stupid, racially insensitive remark. But oh, god, he was just so happy, his laughter rumbled deep in his chest.

“Mr Allardyce is usually pretty easy to get along with.”

“What!” Dan yelped as they both skipped down the steps in unison, “What is he, a prison guard? He wouldn’t even let me go up to check if you were awake.”

“Dan, you know visiting hours don’t start until – ”

“8 AM, I know, I know. But I was only, what, 30 minutes too early? The way he reacted, you would have thought I asked him if I could step on a puppy in the face.” Dan ranted.

Fernando rolled his eyes, “I wasn’t even halfway out the door, and everyone was already telling me my friend was outside throwing a fit.”

Dan’s lips curved into a smirk. “Your friend? Really?”

Fernando wiggled his eyebrows. “Uh-huh. My friend.”

Dan scoffed as he tugged Fernando closer. “I’m not waking up at 6 AM for a friend.”

Fernando felt his face heating up again, and his stomach churned oh, so deliciously. He stood on tiptoes and pressed a kiss on Dan’s cheek, greeting, “Good morning.”

 

**9:45 AM**

“Go on, Steven. You can do this.” Stevie chanted softly to his reflection. He’d done this a million and one times before. Xabi had always said yes. And Saturday was always their date night.

Or maybe this was too short notice? What if Xabi couldn’t be expected to keep his entire day free just in case Stevie asked him out? But the Scouser had chickened out too many times, and now this was the last chance, and the window of opportunity was getting smaller and smaller with every passing moment.

“Lad, are you okay?” Carra clapped his back, and Stevie almost jumped out of his skin in shock.

Carra watched his friend strangely, “Do you have heatstroke or something?”

Stevie laughed nervously, “No, no. I was just thinking of something.” He coughed, “Say, have you seen Xabi?”

Carra looked around the locker room. Training had just finished, and the players were slowly trickling in from the pitch.

“He’s not here,” the defender said with a shrug. “Maybe he’s doing extra laps outside?”

Stevie nodded resolutely. “Okay. I’ll be back – I just have some unfinished business.”

The captain headed for the door and took the steps two at a time. His fingers were shaking with anxiety.

“Is anyone else still out there?” Stevie asked Daniel, who was just coming off the pitch.

Dan turned around to stare at a small clump of players sitting on the far end of the field. He raised his hand to shield his eyes from the blinding sun. “The Spaniards.”

Stevie sighed – he was hoping to get Xabi alone. “All the Spaniards?”

Dan nodded. “All the Spaniards.” He shrugged, but there was a leering grin on his face. “They’re tanning, you see. Apparently, it’s some kind of national cultural practise, or something. Like, bullfighting.”

Stevie rolled his eyes. All these continentals and their obsession with the sun. “Thanks, Daniel.” He clapped the young defender’s back to send him on his way.

But Dan stopped Stevie. “Good luck.” He said, smirking.

Stevie raised an eyebrow.

Dan’s smirk grew even wider. “Try not to stare.”

Stevie’s face scrunched in confusion. Sometimes, he never really did understand Daniel. Shrugging one last time, Stevie went on his way. The grass was dry and it crunched noisily under his feet as he trudged to the Spaniards. He was still thirty, forty yards away, and he could already hear their loud, lively chatter.

Once he got nearer, Stevie understood what the Dane was trying to say.

Maybe they tanned differently in Spain. Stevie had never been that brazen, not in a public place.

Pepe and Fernando were both lying on their stomachs, resting their chins on their folded arms. Alvaro was still halfway through removing his sneakers and his socks, but he was shirtless like all the rest. Their shorts were rolled up their thighs as well, exposing as much skin as possible without being indecent.

“Why are you all half-naked?” Stevie asked, looking pointedly at a water jug so he wouldn’t have to see all the bodies sprawled on the ground.

“It’s called creating an even tan, Stevie.” Alvaro rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I dunno about you, but I’m not getting tanlines.” Fernando said, inspecting colour of his arms.

“You don’t even get tan, Nando.” Pepe snickered.

The three continued on bickering, but Stevie already had his sights set on the fourth Spaniard. Xabi was on his back, using his shirt and jacket as a pillow as he lay on the grass. He dozed lightly, one arm thrown across his eyes, his pale chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm.

Stevie tentatively sat down on the grass next to the Basque. He nudged his shoulder lightly. Xabi grunted and mumbled, “Fuck off, Pepe.”

“Fuck off, Xabi, that’s Stevie, you noob!” Pepe yelled from a couple of metres away. The others joined in snickering.

Xabi didn't even show signs of panic or surprise. He moved with feline grace as he removed his arm over his eyes, rolled onto his side and squinted at Stevie through the bright sunlight. "Hey there," it almost sounded like a purr. Stevie's knees buckled.

"Hey," he choked out.

Xabi smiled lazily. "What brings you here?"

"Well, Agger told me the Spanish Tanning Session was quite the feast on the eyes." Stevie answered, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Fernando blushing.

Xabi grinned, "Oh, this little thing? We're not causing a... disruption, are we?"

Stevie was at a loss for words - he never won against Xabi when it came to wit, wordplay. But he didn't have a chance in hell here, with Xabi spread out on the grass and bare and golden. Stevie's mind was a step behind everyone else's. Slower than usual. Maybe this was heatstroke?

Pepe threw a clump of grass at Xabi, "Now, now, Xabier. Don't play with the poor Scouser."

The captain had to smile at Pepe weakly, thankfully.

Xabi laughed again and patted the space beside him for Stevie to sit. "Fine. For real now, tell me what's up."

Stevie took a deep breath.

I know this is too random. So I'm just gonna say it even if it's out of the blue. But you don't have to say yes or anything, although I'd really appreciate it if you did. I just don't want you to feel like you _have_ to simply because we used to. See, what I'm really just trying to say is -

"Are you busy tonight?"

Xabi's eyes widened just a fraction. Stevie was just as surprised at the ease in his tone.

The Basque shrugged with one shoulder. "Not really." He bit back a smile and asked innocently, "Why?"

Stevie shrugged too. "Do you fancy having dinner with me tonight?"

"Maybe..." Xabi trailed off, a small teasing smirk on his lips.

"Maybe?"

"Yes?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

"Okay. Great."

"Great. Pick me up at 7?"

Stevie nodded, and it felt like this enormous ball of warmth and happiness was just building up in his chest. "Any restaurant in particular that you'd like us to go to?"

Xabi tilted his head to the side and smiled. "Surprise me."

And Stevie could swear his grin was probably reaching from ear to ear, all subtlety had gone out the window. "Sounds good. I'll see you tonight then." He stood there for a full minute, just basking in his glory, before finally bounding back to the locker room.

Xabi rolled around to lay on his stomach, then rested his chin on his folded arms. He smiled triumphantly to himself.

"What?" The Basque suddenly asked, as he noticed Pepe, Fernando and Alvaro talking and snickering to each other.

"What?" Fernando mimicked at Pepe. "What do you think is so funny, Pepe?"

Pepe tilted his head to the side and faked a long giggle. "Surprise me!" He squeaked out in a falsetto tone, batting his eyelashes. Then, the three cracked up laughing again.

Xabi rolled his eyes. "I was just - "

"Wait, wait." Alvaro help up his hand at the Basque, "... _Surprise me._ "

The three broke out laughing hysterically again. Xabi smiled to himself and shook his head, lying back down on the grass to get himself more sunshine.

 

**1:15 PM**

Xabi was halfway through his fish and chips when his phone beeped.

"No texting at the table, Xabier," Mikel reminded. "We're having lunch."

"It'll just take a second, Mikel," Xabi argued, already tinkering with his mobile to open the new message.

_Can't wait for tonight. :)  
Sender: Steven Gerrard, 1:15 PM_

Xabi stifled a smile and texted back.

_Me too. :)  
Sender: Xabi Alonso, 1:16 PM_

"Why are you smiling?" Mikel asked, his eyebrow was prominently raised even as he was focused on spearing the peas on his plate.

Xabi immediately dropped his phone on his lap so Mikel wouldn't have the chance to peek at it.

"Nothing," the younger Basque fibbed. "Alvaro just sent a green joke."

Mikel tutted. "When did Alvaro get so crass? I knew him as a kid and he was always such a nice boy."

Xabi shrugged noncommittally. His phone beeped a second time.

_I should stop giving you guys assignments. I'm wasting my entire Saturday marking papers.  
Sender: Harry Kewell, 1:18 PM_

Xabi guffawed. He and Harry had slowly but steadily worked their way back into their comfort zone. Sometimes, they even dared to text each other. Platonically, of course.

_I'm not entirely averse to that idea.  
Sender: Xabi Alonso, 1:19 PM_

"Stop using your mobile, Xabs."

"Just one last, Mikel."

_Oh, you're one to talk, mister. You botched up your answers in the Oxidation section. Again.  
Sender: Harry Kewell, 1:20 PM_

"Xabier..." Mikel said warningly.

_...You still got the highest marks, though, don't worry.  
Sender: Harry Kewell, 1:20 PM_

Xabi's cheeks grew warm in an instant. He typed back a generic reply, his fingers shaking slightly as they flew over the keypad.

_Haha. Thanks. Now, get back to work, Kewell.  
Sender: Xabi Alonso, 1:22 PM_

_I'm trying! Things were going so well then suddenly, my productivity just died.  
Sender: Harry Kewell, 1:24 PM_

_Like the dinosaurs! :p  
Sender: Xabu Alonso, 1:25 PM_

_Ha. Ha. Ha. Don't try to be cute, Alonso.  
Sender: Harry Kewell, 1:26 PM_

"Stevie, huh?"

Xabi looked up distractedly, "Excuse me?"

Mikel teased wryly. "That's Stevie you're texting with, right? Your entire face changes."

Xabi blushed even more - he was mortified. "I-I don't get it." He stuffed some crisps into his mouth so he'd have an excuse not to elaborate any further.

Mikel waved his fork in the air to gesture at his younger brother's face, "You had this stupid grin on when you were texting. Your eyes went all sparkly and glassy, and basically, you are as red as a tomato."

Xabi coughed, "No, it's just that..." he glanced out the window for a split-second, "Have I told you that Stevie asked me out? We're going out for dinner. Tonight."

Mikel exclaimed, "Oh, wow! That's great news, Xabs! And to think I've been wondering why you were zoning out all this time!" He paused to soak up the news then laughed out loud to himself. Mikel seemed so _genuinely happy_ about the news, that Xabi felt bad just a little.

"So...? How are you feeling?"

Xabi plastered a beaming grin on his face. "I feel great! Excited. Really."

Mikel nodded slowly. "That's good." He sipped from his water, studying his brother over the rim of the glass. When he put down his drink, he glanced at Xabi expectantly. "What?"

Xabi shifted uneasily in his seat. "What do you mean, 'what'?"

"There's a question on the tip of your tongue. I can feel it."

Xabi laughed, but his eyes were darting. "I'm just a little nervous, I guess."

"A little?"

"A lot."

"What's the question? What's bothering you?"

Xabi sighed. Grunted. Made a series of incomprehensible frustrated noises, torn about whether to speak up or not. "This is a good thing, right? Going out again with Stevie? This is the right thing?"

Mikel leaned back on his chair as he mulled over the question. He drummed his fingers on the table. The noise rang hollowly in Xabi's ears as the silence stretched. This was supposed to be an easy question.

"I think it's a good thing for you," Mikel began carefully. "But if it's the _best_ thing for you? Or the right thing? I don't know. I don't think anyone ever knows."

"But..." Xabi began whining at the back of his throat.

Mikel covered Xabi's hand with his own. "Xabier, you're the only one who can answer that. But the fact that you're so dubious even before the date..."

Xabi gnawed on his bottom lip. "I'm not dubious. Just. Shaking off the rust?"

Mikel rolled his eyes. "Stop thinking about it, okay?" He rubbed the back of Xabi's hand comfortingly, "Just enjoy your date, and cross the bridge when you get there."

 

**2:30 PM**

"Stephen?" His father's voice rang out shrilly through the house.

Finns sighed and paused his video game. He wasn't particularly invested in the Tekken match - in fact, he was in the middle of getting a nasty one-two-combo from Mokojin and was a few seconds away from dying. But he needed something to fill the time as the summer stretched on endlessly. Just a few months ago, there was school and football and college applications and Daniel then Daniel with Fernando then finally, Harry. And now, it was just... staying in bed until noon while all his friends returned to pre-season training and Harry busied himself with part-time teaching.

"Stephen!" His father yelled again.

Finns rolled out of bed and popped out into the corridor. "Yes?" He yelled out too. They could never find each other in this house. But from the sound of it, his father was probably downstairs.

"Come down here, son."

Sighing, Finns trudged down the stairs, his too-long pyjamas getting trod on with every step. "Yeah?" he asked as he entered the living room.

"We have a charity ball tonight at the Merseyside Maritime Museum. Your mother wants you to go with us." His father said, as he brushed off nonexistent dust from his sports coat.

Finns winced. "Sorry, Pops. I have plans tonight."

"You always have plans on weekends. We never see you anymore," his father replied evenly, but his expression had gone stony.

Finns sighed. "Pops, I'm moving away soon! I want to hang out with my friends as much as possible!"

"You're moving away from us too," his father pointed out.

Finns groaned. Not this conversation again.

"Ever since you entered senior year, you've been uncontrollable. You're always with that... that boy, Daniel. Your grades have dropped because all you do is play football! And when you don't play football, you and your teammates are out drinking! Please explain to me how these kids are a good influence in your life, Stephen. Pray tell me, because I don't understand."

Finns just lingers on the edge of the carpet, ready to bolt the moment his father's tirade is over. They've been through this before - no, I haven't been uncontrollable. No, I'm just having a life. No, I do set aside Sundays for family days. No, Daniel is really a good lad. No, football is actually good for my CV. No, my grades haven't been affected. But his father was the man of the house, and his word was the law. And if Finns joined in on the argument, it would never end. It was better to just stand there and nod at appropriate moments until his father ran out of steam.

"Stephen! Are you listening to me?"

Finns heaved a sigh. "Yes, Pops. I'm sorry, but I already made plans tonight. I'm going to stay at home the entire day tomorrow, okay?"

His father was not impressed, but he knew that was the best concession he was going to get for tonight. He crossed his arms over her chest and huffed, "Be home before midnight, Stephen. And don't you dare come home drunk or smelling of cigarettes!"

Finns nodded, "I promise!" He was already scampering back to his room.

 

**3:05 PM**

_Pa's giving me hell again. Can't wait to get out of this house. See you later, baby.  
Sender: Steve Finnan, 3:05 PM_

Harry grinned and put down his pen, taking a momentary break from checking papers. He leaned back against his desk chair to soothe his aching back and texted in response:

_Aww, poor baby. You'll miss your dad soon enough when you move out.  
Receipient: Steve Finnan, 3:06 PM_

Once the message was sent, Harry let out a big, loud yawn. Great. He was on a roll checking seven problem sets in a row. Now, he could feel the lethargy kicking in again. His productivity was dying - _like the dinosaurs_. Harry snickered as he remembered the joke.

He absentmindedly fiddled with his phone, texting a message then erasing it then retyping it.

_Hey, has training finished? Any chance you're still in school? I could use a coffee. The dinosaurs have struck again.  
Receipient: Xabi Alonso, 3:10 PM_

Smiling to himself, Harry hit 'send.'

Not long after, his phone beeped, signalling a new SMS. That was probably Xabi - Harry's heartbeat quickened at the thought. But, before he could check it, an error message popped out.

_No space for new messages._

Harry frowned as he hurriedly opened his inbox to delete his old files. He thought of erasing his most recent ones. Finns' "I miss yous" and "Can't wait to see yous." But, Harry had a feeling it wouldn't sit well with Finns. He could imagine the bitchfit now - "What, so now you're deleting me from your phone to make space for Xabi? How symbolic! Why don't you just erase me from your life altogether so you can make space for Xabi Alonso, huh?"

It wasn't going to be pretty.

He scrolled up until he reached his oldest messages so he could screen them.

_Message 498_  
Hey, boys. Drinks tonight at Carra's pub - yeah, we call it Carra's pub now. Old geezer's getting us discounts on the lager. Be there, 5 PM. By invitation only, boys night out, don't bring your birds!  
Sender: Sami Hyypia

Harry snorted as he reread the message sent more than a month ago. He opened the next ones.

_Message 497_  
Yeah, Kewell, you get an invite. Just don't start any funny business, yeah?  
Sender: Sami Hyypia

_Message 496_  
Got Sami to invite you. Please don't start a fight with Stevie!  
Sender: Fernando Torres

_Message 495_  
Haha, thanks. I've got good news for you in return. A couple of us are sleeping over at Carra's tonight so... you get to keep the room all to yourself. If you know what I mean.  
Sender: Fernando Torres

_Message 494_  
Hahaha, subtlety is a gift! Just don't do it on my bed! See you tonight!  
Sender: Fernando Torres

The Australian smirked - he remembered that night fondly.

_Message 493_  
Stay over at your place tonight? Sure! I can't wait!  
Sender: Steve Finnan

Harry stretched his legs out in front of him, letting himself feel sentimental and nostalgic reading old messages. He scrolled to the next one, but it was already from the day after Carra's party - just an adminstrative reminder from Ma'am Dolores, the school's Guidance Counsellor. He checked his phone archive again. Previous message - Finns, Saturday afternoon. Next message - Ma'am Dolores, Sunday afternoon. That was a pretty huge gap. Strange.

Not to mention that Xabi claimed to have contacted him the night of Carra's party. Harry pored through the inbox, but it was futile. There was nothing there.

Maybe the network had a glitch. Maybe he didn't receive the messages or the calls after all. Or maybe Xabi was lying - it wouldn't be the first time. But why would he? Or maybe. Harry narrowed his eyes as he reread the last message before Xabi's was supposedly sent.

_Message 493_  
Stay over at your place tonight? Sure! I can't wait!  
Sender: Steve Finnan

Maybe he wasn't supposed to know about Xabi's messages to begin with.

 

**4:15 PM**

_Hey, babe, what time are you picking me up later? I know I keep saying it, but I'm so excited to see you again!  
Sender: Steve Finnan_

 

**4:25 PM**

_Should I expect you around 6 again, like the usual? Just text me the time so I know when to get ready.  
Sender: Steve Finnan_

 

**4:45 PM**

_You're not picking up your phone, so I guess you're busy. Just call me when you're free!  
Sender: Steve Finnan_

 

**5:30 PM**

Finns was looking for a nice dress shirt to wear for his date tonight when a knock came at his bedroom door.

"Yeah?" He called out, still busily rifling through his closet.

"Finns?" His mother answered from the other side.

"I'm busy, Mum!"

"Harry's here to see you." She said, rapping her knuckles against the door again.

Finns dropped the stack of jerseys he was holding. "What?" He burst out. "What is he doing here?"

He ran to the door, then backtracked to check himself in the mirror. His hair was flattened on the side after taking a power nap after training. He ran his fingers through his scalp, trying to fluff up the hair but to no avail. They fell awkwardly to the side like Fernando's did when he used his hair straighteners.

"Ugh." The boy grunted, grabbing some pommade from the dresser and quickly heating it up in his palms.

"Finns? Were you expecting him?" His mother nagged.

Finns rolled his eyes and muttered to himself, "Not this early, definitely." He hurriedly combed through his hair with the pommade.

"Finns!"

"In a second!" He yelled back. He checked himself in the mirror - great, now his hair was sticking up on all sides.

"If you're busy, I can tell him to come back later!" His mother said again, obviously tired of playing messenger.

"No!" Finns practically screamed out, lunging to the door and throwing it open. His mother and Harry took a step back at the abruptness of his timing. Or maybe it was the crazed look in his eyes.

The Irishman took a shaky breath to calm himself down, smiling forcibly at his mother, "I'll take it from here, Mum."

"I thought you were going out tonight?" His mother asked. She stepped aside to let Harry through, but she obviously had no intention of dropping the conversation. "Because if you're just staying in and you boys are just going to lie around and play videogames and eat junk, Stephen, I would rather you come to the charity ball with us. Our friends haven't seen you in so long!"

"For the last time, I am not going to your stupid charity ball, Mum!" Finns lashed out.

His mother frowned deeply and even Harry, who had timidly sat on the bed to stay away from the conversation, cautioned softly, "Finns, chill."

Finns pinched the bridge of his nose and tried again, "Sorry, mum. I take it back. Your charity ball isn't stupid."

His mother opened her mouth to speak and somehow, Finns already knew what she was going to say.

"No, I am still not going." Finns cut off with an air of finality.

She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Fine. Your father and I will be there until midnight if you change your mind. You can just ask Jarvis to drive you there if you want to catch up."

Finns sighed. "Okay, okay. I'll try to drop by if I have time," he relented. "But I don't think that's going to happen."

His mother nodded curtly, seemingly satisfied with that answer. "Okay." She turned towards Harry and suddenly transformed into a gracious host, "Nice to see you again, Harry. We have some freshly baked brownies downstairs if you boys get hungry, okay?"

Harry grinned and nodded, "Thanks, Mrs Finnan. Enjoy your event later!"

The stately woman smiled at him gratefully, before throwing a sneaky glare at her son. She bade them farewell and left the room.

"Hey." Finns grinned, patting down his hair self-consciously. "I didn't expect you to be here so soon. You weren't replying to my messages."

Harry stared at one of Finns' bookshelves and shrugged. "Sorry, I... I just haven't gotten around to reading them yet."

Finns bit his lip. "Oh. Okay." He closed the door and locked it too for good measure. When he turned back to the Australian, he was still sitting on the edge of the bed. His back was unnaturally straight and his feet were planted on the floor. His fingers drummed nervously on his knee.

On any other date night, Finns would have joined him in bed by now, and they would have laid back and made out for a good half hour. This strangely did not feel like one of those nights.

"Are we leaving soon?" Finns tried to strike up a conversation. "I'll just need to take a quick shower and change clothes, but I can be ready in 15 minutes."

Harry shook his head, "No, let's stay here first."

Finns nodded slowly, "Okay." The silence was too uneasy. "So. Um, what's up?"

He had a feeling Harry wasn't looking him in the eye. Or looking at him at all. His gaze floated right above his shoulder, to the wall where all his certificates and quiz bee ribbons and awful graduation pictures were posted. Finns joined Harry on the bed, tilted his chin up so that he would have no choice but to look at him.

"What's up?" Finns asked again.

Harry struggled to look away. "Is there anything you want to tell me? Anything you want to talk to me about?"

Finns' jaw dropped. "Me?" He didn't want to be petty, but he just needed to ask - "You're the one who showed up at my house unannounced."

A flicker of irritation sparked in the Australian's eyes. "Fine," he hissed. He thought long and hard about how to begin, but there was never going to be a right way to say it.

"See, I was talking to Xabi..."

Finns' froze. His entire body just seized up, shriveled and hardened on itself. Harry should have known his answer already.

"Why were you talking to Xabi?" The Irishman demanded.

Harry sighed. "I am not going to be drawn into this. That isn't the reason I came here."

"Why were you talking to Xabi?" Finns demanded louder.

The Australian threw his hands up in the air. "He's my student in AP Chem! We just got to talking after one class and - "

" _HE'S YOUR STUDENT IN AP CHEM?!_ " Finns positively bellowed, as if so much anger was brewing inside his chest and he had to explode.

"Yes - "

"Since when?!"

"Since the start of summer classes!"

Finns sputtered incoherently. "What the fuck? It's been weeks? A month? And you never thought of telling me this?"

"Because it's nothing! I have _five_ students in that stupid class, and it doesn't matter!"

"Of course it matters!"

"Jesus Christ. I teach him Chemistry, Finns. I don't fuck him on the teacher's table."

Finns flinched just at the mention, the visual of it. "You tell me about your lesson plans and your quizzes and that annoying student that falls asleep during your lectures. Those things don't _matter_. But of all the inane things you've told me, Xabi just _magically_ didn't fit into all of this?"

Harry crossed his arms defensively. "I didn't tell you because I knew you'd react like this."

"I'm being pretty damn reasonable and you know it."

Harry scoffed. "You weren't reasonable when you _tampered with my phone behind my back_."

Finns snorted right back, waved his hand in the air dismissively. "It was just a few messages and calls."

"How could you be so nonchalant about this?" Harry asked incredulously, eyes as wide as saucers.

The Irishman shot him a steely grin. "Because I don't regret it."

Harry's mouth hung open. He stared at Finns and Finns glared back, daring the Australian to answer him. Harry couldn't even recognise the boy standing in front of him. He was so bitter, so angry... so _threatened_. Harry shook his head in disappointment and pushed himself off the bed. "I'm leaving."

Finns stomped his foot like a child not getting his way. "Where are you going?"

"Home."

"What about our date tonight?" Finns asked sullenly.

"It's probably best if you join your parents in their charity ball." Harry answered flatly.

Finns laughed humourlessly. "Fine. Go." He went ahead to his door and threw it wide open, gestured with a flourish to point Harry the way out.

Harry obliged, and Finns could only watch him as he trudged out, feet heavy and dragging behind him. Like he was torn between staying and leaving, but one side was winning by just that much.

"That night I deleted Xabi's messages and calls, you had promised me I would be the only one, Harry." Finns hissed at his lover's ear as he walked past. "And you had told Xabi that you didn't even want to be friends with him. You had told him he was _nothing_. So what does it matter now what I did?" Finns sneered, "I was only helping you keep your word."

Harry muttered, studying the blue carpet underneath his sneakers. "I didn't need you to help me."

"Then, why are you so angry right now?" Finns raised an eyebrow. "Because you know that if I hadn't done what I did, and you heard the way Xabi _pleaded_  for you to come back that night - you wouldn't have left him so easily. And you regret having left him at all."

"I wouldn't have done things any differently, Stephen." Harry said, and Finns felt an ominous shiver down his spine. Harry has never called him by his first name before.

"Right, because - " Finns interrupted, trying to keep his tone steady, taunting and confident as he prepared another barbed comeback.

But the Australian shook his head definitively before Finns could say more. "I was always going to choose you." Harry chuckled sadly, "But not if you keep making me choose between the both of you."

  
**6:00 PM**

Dan scrutinised his reflection. Red shirt or blue shirt? He pulled on the red one and turned sideways. His tummy stuck out. He faced the mirror again - but it looked good from the front view. He took a few steps forward and studied himself. The red was making his face look splotchy. His skin wasn't used to all this sun, and he was breaking out in freckles and sunspots - even more of them. Maybe the blue one would be better.

He yanked off his red shirt and made to grab the blue shirt he left on his bed. It wasn't there.

Dan scratched his head. He was sure he put it on his bed. He dropped on his knees and rooted around the floor just in case he dropped it by accident. "Where the fuck is that bloody..."

"Don't even consider the blue, Danny." A voice spoke up from behind him, making the Dane jump to his feet.

Finns was standing by his closet, already folding said blue shirt and returning it on to the pile.

"Fucking hell, Finns! What are you doing here? I didn't even hear you!"

Finns closed the cabinet door and leaned against it, shrugging. "I let myself in."

"Well, how about a warning next time, eh? This is still _my_  room, you know."

Finns smirked. "Cranky."

Dan crossed his arms self-consciously over his bare chest. "What brings you here?"

The Irishman huffed. Then, he spun on his heel and threw open the closet again. He started rummaging inside, "Maybe you should try this gray shirt instead."

"Finns."

Finns stopped but didn't look up. "What?"

"What's wrong?"

"You know how I messed with Harry's phone when I found out Xabi was trying to get in touch with him?" Finns' voice sounded hollow as it echoed off the inside of the cabinet.

Dan nodded slowly, "Uh-huh. But that was so long ago."

Finns faced his best friend. "Yeah. But Harry found out now."

"Oh no." Dan gasped. He approached Finns, holding his arms open wide. "Baby, I'm sorry."

Finns was trying to keep himself nonchalant, calm. He nodded to acknowledge Dan, but his face was already crumpling and his body was moving on auto-pilot. He closed the distance between them and fell into Daniel's embrace. "I'm such an idiot," he choked.

Dan tried to calm Finns down, rubbed circles on his back until he stopped shaking. The Irishman wasn't crying - just like Daniel, he rarely cried. But his body was heaving out dry sobs masked as angry grunts and incoherent grumbles.

Dan pulled away and took Finns' face in his hands. "Now, come on, tell me what happened. Did Harry get angry?"

Finns glared at the floor and shook his head in frustration, mostly aimed at himself. "No. I was the one getting mad."

Dan frowned. This didn't sound good. His best friend had the tendency to do crazy things he refused to own up to. And when he was got painted into a corner, he would get defensive and bite back. Something told Dan that was exactly what had happened during Finns' and Harry's confrontation.

"Why didn't you just admit it and apologise?" Dan asked quietly, trying to rub the worrylines out of Finns' forehead.

"Of course not," Finns scoffed. "Dan, if I had to do that again, I would."

"You know it's wrong."

"No, it's not." Finns pushed away and walked to Dan's bed. He climbed under the sheets and pulled the covers all the way up to his chin, burying his face into the pillow.

"Finns," Dan sighed, sitting down on the mattress as well. He pat Finns' leg, "Come on, baby, talk to me."

"What for? You wouldn't understand," the other boy murmured. "You've never had to worry about being left behind."

Dan recoiled - "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Finns smirked. He was equal parts taunting and envious and remorseful. "What, do you think Fernando can _leave you_? Did you think _I_  could leave you?"

The younger boy sighed and shook his head. They've been down this road too many times before, and it never ended well.

"Just give Harry some time to cool down first, yeah?" Dan steered the conversation to safer topics. "He's a laid-back kind of guy. I'm sure Harry's not taking this as badly as you think he is."

Finns whimpered and just burrowed deeper into Dan's bed. Dan smiled reassuringly at his best friend, patted his back then placed a kiss on his forehead. "You'll be fine."

"Thanks."

Dan straightened up, "You can stay here if you want." He headed to his closet to finish dressing up.

"But - "

Dan raised his eyebrows.

"Stay here with me." Finns said in a tiny voice.

Dan tried to laugh it off, but his stomach had begun knotting anxiously.

"Come on, Dan," Finns reached out to grip his best friend's hand tightly.

"I can't. I'm going on a date," Dan tried to reason out.

"I'm sure Fernando will understand. You can reschedule." Finns frowned.

Dan fidgeted. Fuck. He knew what this spiel was going to be about.

"Finns, you know I can't."

"Why not?"

"How about we finish early? Fernando and I are just grabbing some pizza for dinner anyway. We won't be long. I'll head here right after."

Finns crossed his arms over his chest. He answered stubbornly. "No."

Dan's heart started beating faster. "Finns, what do you want from me?"

"Stay here." Finns insisted, the look in his eyes intensely serious.

And it wasn't so much that he wanted Dan to stay. It was more that he needed Dan to choose him. Over Fernando. Sure, he could wait for Dan to finish his date. But that wouldn't mean as much.

Finns played this card many, many times. It was just the way he was wired. He was an only child and Dan's only best friend. He was not used to sharing attention and affection.

Dan has seen this happen before. It's just that he never knew how to react to it.

  
**6:30 PM**

When Harry enters their dormitory room, it takes Fernando by surprise.

"I thought you met up with Finns?" He asked, putting the last touches of wax on his hair.

Harry just grunted and trudged to his bed. Fernando turned away from the mirror to check on his roommate.

"Harry?" He asked worriedly.

"I cancelled our date." Harry dropped himself on the bed face down.

"Why? What happened?"

Harry shrugged, let out a long, heaving sigh. "Nothing. I'm just really tired, and I have to catch up on so much paperwork for my class."

Fernando tentatively approached the Australian, afraid of nagging him when he was already in a bad mood. "I thought you already spent the entire morning checking papers?"

"I'm not yet done." Harry answered curtly.

"Okay, but if you want to talk about it..." Fernando trailed off.

"I'm just really tired, Nando." Harry said. He cocked his head to the side to flash the boy a brief, laboured smile.

Fernando nodded slowly. "Okay. Do you want me to get you anything? I can bring home food for you later after my date."

Harry chuckled dryly. "You know my weakness."

Fernando grinned at his roommate encouragingly. "We can excuse stress-eating for now. You look like you really need it."

"Thanks." That was the last thing Harry said before he buried his face in the mattress again.

Fernando smiled ruefully at the Australian. Harry was so happy-go-lucky, it was always jarring to see him this down.

The Spaniard took one last glance at himself in the mirror, then spritzed on some perfume. "I'll go ahead now, okay?" He asked gently.

Harry grunted an affirmative sound, and Fernando reluctantly went on his way.

He was only halfway out the door when his mobile rang.

"Hello?"

"Fernando?"

It was Dan, and that made him smile immediately.

"Hey!" He greeted brightly. "I was just about to leave."

Dan laughed uneasily. "Listen, I have a problem."

Fernando stopped in his tracks.

"Fernando?" Dan asked again.

The Spaniard gulped. "Yes?"

"Harry and Finns got into a huge fight. I think they've broken up."

It felt like a huge weight was lifted off Fernando's chest. He thought Daniel was going to bring up something about _them_. It turns out he was only concerned about Harry and Finns.

"Harry didn't talk to me about it, but he was in a really bad mood when he came home." Fernando explained.

"Yeah, Finns is pretty distraught too." Dan added.

There was a second of reluctance before Dan continued. "Fernando..."

"Yes?" The Spaniard asked in the same tone.

"...Is it okay if we cancel our date tonight?"

And when Dan asks that, Fernando is no longer prepared for it. It hits him like a ton of bricks.

"It's just that Finns is in a really bad place right now, and I'm worried. I think it's best if I keep an eye out for him tonight." Dan was explaining, but it was slowly getting tuned out of Fernando's mind.

He thinks of all the ways he could answer Daniel -

"We won't take long."

Or, "Finns needs time."

And, "Finns is an adult."

Or even, "What about me?"

Or maybe, "You promised."

"Fernando?" Dan prompted again, and Fernando hasn't even decided just what to say.

So, instead he said, "Sure." He answered hollowly, "I understand."

He could practically hear the smile breaking upon Daniel's face. "Thanks, baby."

Fernando wondered what would have happened if he said no. He wondered what Dan would have done.

"How about I take you out for dinner tomorrow?" Dan offered, but Fernando's heart had begun breaking at this point. It took him all he had to keep calm, keep steady.

"No problem. Just text me the details, and I'll check," Fernando replied, trying to keep his voice as bright and upbeat as possible.

"Great." Dan paused shyly, "I miss you."

Fernando pretends that the call gets cut.

  
**7:15 PM**

The table is tiny. If Stevie slouched in his seat and stretched out his legs, he could press them right up against Xabi's. So he did. He entwined his right leg with Xabi's left, and then playfully ran the top of his foot along Xabi's calf.

"Stevie." Xabi scolded wryly.

"Yes?" The Scouser put on an impish grin.

"I thought boys were supposed to be on their best behaviour on the first date."

Stevie winked, "Well, this isn't _really_ our first date."

Xabi tutted, but he didn't move his legs away.

"So, have you chosen anything you like?" Stevie asked, opening the menu in front of him.

Xabi copied him and scanned the main courses, "Do you want to share a _paella Valenciana_? Then maybe some _callos_?"

Stevie shrugged. "Go. You order for us. I don't even understand half of this."

"Okay." Xabi teased, "You trust me?"

Stevie didn't have to glance up to meet his ex-boyfriend's eyes. He just continued poring over the menu, a small smile on his lips. "Always," he answered plainly. "You know that."

  
**7:30 PM**

"He just stormed into my room and _confronted_  me." Finns ranted, "God, my parents were even at home!"

Dan sighed inwardly. His best friend had been recounting this story the entire night.

"My mother even escorted him to my room and everything. The, he just drops the bomb on me. What if she overheard us, huh? _God!_ He can be so inconsiderate at times!"

Dan chewed on his pizza thoughtfully - it was stale and cold in his mouth. The cheese was rubbery and oil had pooled in the pepperoni.

If he had gone out with Fernando, they'd be in Guido's right now. It would be warm and toasty inside because of the fumes from the ovens. The pizza would be piping hot and maybe they'd even get mozzarella sticks -

"Damn, we should have gotten mozzarella sticks." Dan murmured.

"What?" Finns snapped.

Dan waved it off, "Nothing. I just remembered something." He fibbed, throwing his rock-hard crust in the empty pizza box.

"Oh." Finns frowned. "Is there something you want to say?"

Dan's eyes widened and he shook his head vehemently. "No, no, no. You talk. You need it."

Finns nodded slowly, unsurely, then he took a deep breath and continued, "And did I tell you what Harry said?"

_Harry said he would choose you over Xabi, but not if you keep making him choose._ Dan recited in his head.

"Harry said he would choose me over Xabi, but not if I keep making him choose!" Finns exclaimed. "What the fuck is that even supposed to mean?"

Dan wiped the grease from his fingers then wadded up the tissue. "I told you this already."

"Tell me again," Finns pouted.

Dan huffed lazily. "I told you, Harry is crazy about you. _Crazy_. He's not going to leave you for Xabi, okay?"

Finns stared at him with wide eyes, his face a picture of battling emotions. "But?" He coughed out.

Dan took Finns' hands in his and gripped them tight, "But you can't keep making him choose between you and Xabi. All this... this jealousy and _distrust_  is poisonous, Finns. Harry isn't prohibited from being friends with Xabi. We all move in such a small circle, it's impossible for the both of them to not be in speaking terms with each other."

"Even if I asked for it? He knows how I feel about Xabi."

Dan shook his head and answered firmly, "No."

"But - "

"Harry isn't going to leave you for Xabi, Finns." Dan pressed a kiss on the back of the Irishman's hands, hoping to reassure him. He hated it when Finns was a wreck. "Harry loves you. Xabi is a friend. A student, even. Sure, they've got history, but that doesn't matter now that he's with you."

"Are you sure?" Finns asked. His face suddenly twisted from hopeful to sardonic. "Because it vaguely sounds like your story, and you chose me over Fernando tonight."

Dan's dropped Finns' hands. He looked like he'd been slapped. Finns didn't retract his statement nor did he look remorseful about it.

"Fine," Dan said, standing up.

"Where are you going?" The Irishman demanded.

"I'm going out for a smoke."

"You smoke in your room all the time."

Dan grabbed his lighter and crumpled pack of cigarettes from his table. "I need some air," he dismissed.

"Daniel! Come back here!" Finns was calling after him, but it was cut off when Dan slammed the door shut.

For all intents and purposes, he had made the right decision. He knew that. He never wanted to be that guy who forgot his friends, his life - just because he was involved with someone else. Finns was his best friend. He didn't want to lose him over a _boy_. "Heartwrenching break-up" trumped "weekly pizza night-out" by far.

This was the compromise. He was only being logical. He was only being right.

He could only wish that Harry would make a better decision than he did.

  
**7:55 PM**

Fernando pushed open the door of Guido's and the waitress was immediately by his side. "Table for?" She asked brightly, pile of menus already clutched tightly to her chest.

"Uh," Fernando paused. The place was almost packed. It felt unjust to take a large table for himself only so he could have privacy as he moped.

The waitress stared at him expectantly, her doe eyes not even blinking.

Fernando cleared his throat. "Table for one. Just one."

If the waitress found that odd, she didn't show it. She just dilligently sat Fernando down on a table with one chair and one sad placemat and bowed out.

Fernando sat still, taking in his surroundings. The yellow light would have been pretty, and the decor would have been homey and endearing. If he had gone out on a date.

But now, he was sitting alone in his table because his boyfriend had ditched him and he was all dressed up and had nowhere to go. He didn't want to go back into his room. He didn't want to see Harry - he didn't want to prove him right about Dan, and he didn't want to bother him when he knew the Australian was going through a break-up. So he had gone to Guido's. By himself.

He was seated smack dab in the middle of the dining area. All around him were long tables of families with their kids running around or friends laughing boisterously. It was much quieter by the booths were the couples stayed. Lovers sat together on one side, linking hands under the table and pressing giggles to each other's cheeks. Fernando sighed morosely.

A voice coughed politely behind his shoulder. Fernando distractedly looked up, and the waitress was standing there expectantly.

"Can I take your order?" She asked.

"Oh, yeah," Fernando said, hurriedly flipping through the menu. "What's your smallest pizza?"

"We have a 10-inch pizza." She answered, pointing to the photo on the menu, "It's good for two."

Fernando stopped himself from rolling his eyes. Figures.

"Whatever." He said, slapping the menu closed. "Just a 10-inch all-meat pizza, please. And water."

She nodded, dutifully scribbling on her notepad. "Is there anything else?"

Fernando shook his head.

"Okay." She said. The waitress gestured to the empty seat across Fernando, "Are you expecting anyone? Is it okay if I clear this already?"

The Spaniard frowned. "Go ahead." He gestured, watching blankly as the girl took away the placemat and utensils that were supposed to be Daniel's. His heart ached.

This called for binge-eating.

"Excuse me," Fernando called after the waitress before she disappeared into the kitchen.

She turned around, confused.

"I'll have an additional order of mozzarella sticks, please."

  
**8:20 PM**

Xabi must have forgotten this feeling. It had been a while.

He couldn't even pinpoint when he had started forgetting - the heavy lurch of his stomach or the fluttering tingle down his spine, the sweating of his palm or the funny emptiness in the space between his fingers when Stevie's hand wasn't in his.

Falling in love, he remembered, was always so intense.

Stevie's arms are crossed on the table and he's leaned so far forward. But, Xabi mimics his posture and the tips of their noses are two, three inches apart. He liked this closeness. He started memorizing Stevie's face again.

There are more worry lines on Stevie's forehead - brought about by a difficult season and an even more difficult school year that not even the summer could completely erase. But the laugh lines, Xabi liked these. The skin was wrinkled around Stevie's eyes and his cheeks were striated - the Scouser was grinning so widely. Xabi was sure that he was too.

"What?" Stevie asked.

"What?" Xabi asked back, chuckling.

"What?" Stevie teased. "You're staring."

"What?" Xabi shot back, " _You're_ staring."

It was stupid, really. But so, so good. Like Xabi's chest wanted to burst and he wanted to just laugh - throw his head back and laugh out loud, from deep inside his belly.

Stevie made the first move. He tapped his fingers on Xabi's wrist delicately.

"Thanks for coming," he said.

Xabi blushed, "Of course."

The Basque tilted his head forward and licked his lips. Maybe he was a bit presumptuous, but the moment called for it! There were sparks in the air, and the restaurant had gone quiet, and they were already too close to not kiss.

But Stevie didn't move. He just sat there, arms crossed in front of him, a smug grin on his face.

"What?" Xabi demanded, and this time he sounded annoyed.

"You're not supposed to kiss on the first date, Xabi," Stevie retorted.

Xabi's jaw dropped. Stevie burst out laughing and leaned back on his chair.

"You... you..." Xabi spluttered, and Stevie only laughed harder.

"Baby," Stevie cooed. He pressed quick kisses on both of Xabi's palms in apology.

"You do know you don't have to do this the old-fashioned way, right?"

"And you do know I'm determined to do this right, right?"

It was embarrassing that Xabi couldn't even bite back his smile. "Whatever."

  
**9:00 PM**

Xabi was walking to the bus stop after his date when he thought he spotted someone he knew. But it couldn't be -

"Hey," he called out, afraid to use the boy's name in case it wasn't who he thought he was.

The guy didn't turn around. Xabi jogged forward, and when he caught up with the hunched figure, he asked again.

"Fernando?"

The younger Spaniard looked around and smiled tiredly. "Xabi, hey."

Xabi cleared his throat and asked carefully, "...I thought you were..."

Fernando raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, I thought so too."

"Oh." Xabi could only mutter out. Awkwardly, he wrapped an arm around Fernando's shoulders. "That's okay."

Fernando shrugged half-heartedly. "I don't really want to talk about it."

They walked for a few minutes in silence. They had the same bus stop.

"Night-out?" Fernando spoke up again, trying to sounded more cheery.

Xabi smiled, although he wasn't sure if it was appropriate. He didn't want to seem like he was gloating. "Yeah, Stevie and I had dinner," he murmured.

Fernando grinned despite his own troubles. "Awesome. How'd that go?"

"Good. It was pretty good." Xabi said, and Fernando believed him. The Basque was _glowing_ , and that couldn't be faked.

"I'm happy for you," Fernando nodded.

Xabi nodded too, and another bout of uneasy silence fell between them. They were never really close although their friendship was intricately linked with Stevie's and Harry's. Xabi figured they couldn't keep walking on broken glass around each other. He was in a good mood tonight, so why not make that start now?

"You know, I had my doubts," he shared. "I was so nervous about trying again with Stevie. I wasn't sure if it was the right thing for him. I'd fucked up so much."

Fernando stared intently, "Go on," he encouraged. He was worried at the beginning that Xabi would probe into his relationship with Daniel. Honestly, he was tired of talking about it. It was a breath of fresh air listening to somebody else for a change. He didn't expect it to be Xabi, but it was a pleasant surprise nonetheless.

"But, I dunno. It's amazing, it's like rediscovering each other all over again? Is that cheesy? That's cheesy, right?"

Fernando laughed and almost commented, "You talk like Harry." But he held it back, knowing that would be the most wrong thing to say at a time like this.

They reached the bus stop just as Fernando's bus arrived.

"I'll go ahead," Fernando said, jutting his thumb to the line forming to enter the bus.

"Sure. It was great bumping into you."

Fernando nodded and clapped Xabi's shoulder. "Stevie's a great guy. You're very lucky to have him."

Xabi smiled and pulled Fernando into a quick hug. It still wasn't natural, but it wasn't as uncomfortable as they both expected. "And you hang in there, okay? I'm not sure what the deal is between you and Agger, but good luck."

Fernando pulled away. With one final nod at Xabi, he turned around and boarded his bus.

Several minutes passed when Xabi's mobile began ringing. He fished it out of his pocket and checked the screen.

_Steven Gerrard calling._

Xabi's grin returned on his face, as if it even left. "Yes?" He chirped.

"Xabier Alonso."

"Steven George Gerrard."

"At home yet?"

"Nah, I took a walk around the city centre, then I bumped into Fernando."

"Oh. How is that lad?"

"Looked heartbroken, really."

Stevie tsked. "Well, you know Daniel can be stubborn."

"Wow, Stevie, spoken like a patient man."

"Hey, I am patient."

"Right."

The Scouser laughed, "So, where are you now?"

"Bus stop."

"You're okay to talk? I can keep you company while you wait for your bus."

"Sure," Xabi smiled and checked the bus schedules. "You have 15 minutes."

"The N37 is always late, honey."

"Fine, you have 20 minutes. And if you're interesting enough, I might even let you talk to me through my bus ride."

Stevie laughed, "Oh, I love myself a good challenge."

"Uh-huh," Xabi taunted back. "Why is that?"

He could picture Stevie shrugging his shoulders arrogantly. "I love winning."

Xabi laughed and sat down on the railing of the waiting shed. "Well, I don't like losing."

"That's what you say."

"Excuse me?" Xabi laughed in disbelief.

"People like you like to be proven wrong, Xabi." Stevie said, "It's only way to get your attention. You're not used to being taken down a peg."

"And I suppose you think that's you?"

"...Well, I've taken you down a lot."

Xabi laughed, his cheeks growing hot despite the fact that the night had turned colder. "I don't like the sound of that."

"Mm-hmm." Stevie hummed in a way that could not be taken innocently.

Xabi laughed harder. "It was great seeing you again today."

Stevie answered, "You too. I miss you already."

"But it's barely been an hour."

"I know. But I just do." He insisted. And as Stevie continued talking, Xabi made himself comfortable in the waiting shed, bus schedules all but forgotten. He just settled down and prepared for a long conversation, just like old times.


	10. Why do you look when you've already found me

Fernando missed home. Spain.

This wasn't home. It was 8 in the morning and he was wide awake because it was cold and raining. It was the middle of summer. It wasn't supposed to be cold and raining. Unless you were in Merseyside, where the breeze was strong and came in nightly from the docks.

Right now, all he wanted was the comfort of home. His heart was aching and he was torn between being angry at Daniel or missing Daniel.

All he wanted was to roll out of his own bed and be greeted by nothing but sunlight. There'd be so much sun, it would be impossible to be down and unhappy. He would pad downstairs and his mother would be there, already talking a mile a minute about how he was wasting his life sleeping. Then, she would ask him if he fixed his bed, which of course, he did not, and Israel would say proudly that he fixed is own bed, and Mari Paz too. And that Fernando was such a spoiled brat just because he was the youngest and debatably the most good-looking out of the three of them. Then, Fernando would roll his eyes and go back up to his room and throw his comforter over his unmade bed so it looked kind of tidy.

By the time he'd return to the dining room, his siblings would be smiling smugly, and his mother would already have a bowl of steaming chocolate porridge for him as a sign of approval. His father would be quiet when all of this would be happening, except when he would slap Fernando's back when he's about to dig in to his food, and say, "Eat more, son. You look like a twig."

Fernando allowed himself a brief half-smile. Sometimes, people forgot he was from Spain, and he was only a boy in the middle of a strange country. And right now, he was also only a boy in the middle of a freezing cafeteria that only served cold cereal for breakfast. Only half the counter was open because only the summer school students were coming in. His stomach grumbled loudly.

"What are you having for today, son?" The elderly cafeteria lady asked.

Fernando had a grand total of two choices - Cap'N Crunch or Rice Crispies.

"Rice crispies, I guess," he said glumly. Maybe he could pretend it was chocolate porridge.

"Breakfast of champions," the lady winked at him, tossing him the cereal box.

Fernando laughed and barely caught it, still half a second too sluggish in his movements. "Thanks."

When he was looking for a table - it wasn't that hard since there were barely any people there - he bumped into Xabi.

"Hey, early morning for you?" Fernando greeted groggily, rubbing his eyes.

Xabi nodded, hiking his backpack higher on his shoulder. "Yeah, I didn't get to do much studying over the weekend. I figured I'd drop by the library before heading to Harry's class."

Fernando raised his cereal box, "Wanna sit with me for breakfast?"

Xabi nodded, "Rice crispies. How appetizing."

Fernando laughed, "Suffer with me, _por favor_."

"Wow, I haven't heard Spanish in a long time," Xabi kidded as they both sat down.

"Yeah, I'm missing home terribly." Fernando grumbled, tearing open the box.

"Aren't you going back for the summer?"

"Nah," Fernando laughed bitterly. "I told my mother I wanted to spend more time in Liverpool."

Xabi asked cautiously. "Talked to Daniel yet?"

"He tried calling a couple of times over the weekend."

"Not ready yet?"

Fernando shook his head and shrugged at the same time.

Xabi pat his shoulder. "That's okay. Make him sweat a little."

Fernando scratched at the corner of his cereal box. "Why, am I easy?"

Xabi didn't think twice about pointing out, "Yes. With Dan, you are."

"Why do you say that?"

"Are you sure you want to hear my assessment?"

Fernando nodded. "Hit me."

"Well, for one thing, you took him back when he cheated on you."

Fernando busied himself with opening his cereals, pouring it into a plastic bowl and adding in the milk. But Xabi knew he was listening. Intently.

"I know everyone was bewildered that Stevie took me back - yourself included. I didn't expect him to forgive me for what I did either. If anything, I was just really, really lucky." Xabi explained, "The difference is that Stevie and I have been together for two years. Maybe all that time together convinced him that we had too much to throw away. Daniel cheated while you two were just _dating_. You've been seeing each other for what, four months? He couldn't be on his best behavior after four months?"

Fernando chewed on his food sullenly. "I guess I thought he would change."

Xabi nodded. "You took a gamble and it didn't pay off. There's nothing wrong with that."

Fernando played with his spoon as he continued, "But the question is, how long will I keep taking a gamble?"

"Exactly."

Fernando smiled - his first smile of the morning. "I'm a fast learner."

Xabi laughed. "No, you're not."

The blonde swatted at Xabi's head playfully.

Xabi grabbed Fernando's spoon and dug into his breakfast. After just one spoonful of Rice Crispies, Xabi made a face. "This is horrid."

"Welcome to life in the dorms."

"Can you at least do groceries?"

"Do Harry and I look like we're good in the kitchen?"

Xabi pushed the bowl to Fernando, smiling smugly, "Well, enjoy your cereals then."

Fernando shoved another spoonful of cereals in his mouth and enjoyed it with exaggerated relish.

"You know, I just want to stop thinking about it."

Xabi rebutted dryly, "You're not if you keep talking about it."

"You're a smart ass."

"Everyone's after my smart ass," Xabi smiled widely.

Fernando snorted. He asked thoughtfully, "So, how do you do it?"

Xabi raised an eyebrow.

The striker stammered, "I dunno... why do I keep making bad decisions?"

The mood turned a notch somber. Xabi shrugged, "I've had my share of bad decisions too."

"But?"

Xabi shrugged. "I dunno." He clapped Fernando's shoulder, "Just... stop thinking about it. You're in too deep in all this shit right now."

Fernando chewed on his lip unsurely.

"Give me your phone."

"What..."

"Just give me your phone."

Fernando reluctantly turned over his mobile.

Xabi glanced at it. There was a missed call and two unread messages from Daniel. He switched off the phone unceremoniously. "You are not allowed to turn on this phone until tomorrow."

"But what if..." Fernando began protesting, but Xabi was having none of it.

"No."

"Emergencies?"

"NO."

"You do know I can just go online and chat up Daniel, right?"

Xabi shrugged. "Phones are the easiest form of temptation."

Fernando groaned. "Fine."

Xabi handed him the mobile. Fernando gazed at it pitifully.

"Don't be such a teenager about it," Xabi ruffled Fernando's hair. "The world doesn't revolve around your shitty lovelife, okay?"

Fernando's lips twisted into a wry smile. "You're such a nurturing soul, Xabs."

*

"Morning!" Xabi greeted as he entered the classroom.

Harry looked up from his book, "Hey there. You're early."

"Yeah. I did some extra reading in the library, but after an hour or so, the silence was driving me crazy." Xabi put his bag down on his usual desk, "I hope it's okay if I hang out here until class starts?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah, sure, sure." He hesitated before continuing, "I needed to talk to you about something anyway."

Xabi was immediately struck by an unexplainable tremor of anxiety. "What's up?"

Harry stood up from his chair and paced the platform nervously. "Remember when you said before that I had stopped replying to you? And that you took it as a sign I didn't like you anymore?"

Xabi nodded slowly. "Yeah, I thought you wanted to have nothing to do with me anymore."

Harry's eyes were darting all over the place. "Well, it turns out I never got any of your calls or messages after all. Finns took my phone and erased all of them."

Xabi gasped. "What the fuck?"

Harry shook his head, "I don't understand why he did that either." He rubbed the back of his neck, the stress starting to build up once more, "But I thought I should just tell you."

Xabi let himself sink down to sit on his desk, calmly trying to take it all in.

"What happened though? Did you confront Finns?"

Harry laughed, and it had a bitter edge to it. "Yeah. Didn't really end well."

Xabi looked up, forehead furrowed. A delicious tingle of curiosity and anticipation gurgled in his stomach, and it was sickening that that was his natural reaction. "What happened?" He tried to sound nonchalant.

"He accused me of still liking you, of course."

 _Do you?_ Xabi's heart screamed out, and the Basque physically felt the seizing in his chest. He ignored it as much as he could, crossing his arms tightly to distract him from the heartache.

Even the discreet opening of the door made them flinch violently. Linda, a fellow student of the AP Chemistry class, made her way inside the room. Then, she stopped in her tracks, sensing the strange tension.

Harry quickly greeted her to try to put her at ease. "Hi, Linda, come in."

Xabi was too distracted, but he did nod at Linda politely.

Linda seemed lost - nothing really looked out of the ordinary, but things _did not_ feel the same. Nevertheless, she replied, "Hi, Xabi. Good moring, Sir." Then, she scurried to her desk.

Harry heaved a sigh and sat down by the teacher's table too. He cracked open his book again and continued reading, just like nothing happened. 

Xabi shook his head. This conversation was _not_ over.

He marched up to Harry and stood in front of his table, with his hands on his hips. The Australian slowly averted his gaze from his book to Xabi.

"So?" The Basque asked, "What now?"

Harry's eyes darted between Xabi and Linda, who was politely pretending to text. "What do you mean, what now?" Harry asked back under his breath.

"Are you and Finns...?" Xabi trailed off.

"We haven't been talking, but I'm sure we'll figure something out," Harry said, and his tone was confident. Certain.

Xabi's face was getting stony, and his lips were set in a firm line.

Harry shook his head, "This isn't about you and me, Xabi."

Xabi planted his hands on Harry's desk so he could crouch down and hiss at the Australian's ear. "Why isn't this about us? All this time I thought you shut me out of your life, and now I find out that's all been a lie." Xabi laughed bitterly, "We could have..."

But Harry cut him off. "We could have what?"

The classroom door opened again and two more students filtered in, Jones and Donald. The tension must have been palpable, because they immediately dropped their gazes and strode quickly to their seats, afraid to draw anyone's attention.

Harry stood up from his desk and took Xabi to the far corner of the room. He didn't care anymore that the others could see him take the Basque by his wrist. Right now, his heart was pounding in his ears, it was deafening. He couldn't hear himself think.

"We could have what?" Harry asked again, softer and more calm. He could feel the emotion building up within Xabi - somebody had to be the rational one.

Xabi's jaw was clenched as he was painted into a corner. "We could have been together," he finally admitted through gritted teeth.

Harry laughed. "Okay, so we'll get together now? And then come September, I'll leave for the States and what? We'll start a long-distance relationship? I'll visit Liverpool during my breaks, and then you'll follow me for college?"

"Stop patronising me."

"I'm not. I'm just reminding you that I'm leaving soon. For good. With Finns. While you, for all intents and purposes, are still in a relationship with the great love of your life." Harry snapped his fingers, as though he'd just remembered something, "By the way, have you even told Stevie you were taking my summer classes?"

Xabi withdrew like he'd been slapped.

Harry smiled, no offence taken at all, "I thought so."

The Australian cast a cursory glance around the room - the class was complete and the students were just waiting for the two of them. No one dared to talk. They were like the curious, scared children watching their parents fighting.

"You see, Xabi, we're doing the right thing," Harry murmured. "You're getting back together with Stevie. I'll work things out with Finns."

Xabi was overwhelmed. He stared at Harry, lost and helpless.

Harry rubbed his temples, "Come on, Xabi. Sit down. We have a lot to discuss today for class."

The Australian moved away from Xabi and sat down on his table, leafing through his notebook for his lecture notes.

But Xabi just stood behind him, unwilling to move.

Harry sighed and called out more sternly, "Alonso, please take your seat."

Xabi frowned and brushed past Harry to go to his seat. "You know what? I'll just read up on the lecture by myself." He grabbed his bag from his desk and shoved the chair out of the way.

"Where are you going?" Harrry demanded.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Xabi answered back, and right now, Harry wasn't a teacher to him. He wasn't anything to him, actually, but an irritating voice in his ear and a blunt pressure on his chest. He slung his bag over his shoulder and pulled the door open with such force, it swung noisily on its hinges. "I'm cutting."

Harry could only watch as the Basque stormed out. The classroom was eerily quiet, and he knew his other students had watched the encounter in rapt fixation.

Xabi's face burned as he stalked down the corridor. It turns out, he was no better than Fernando at making bad decisions.

*

"You look like shit," Stevie commented bluntly.

Fernando rubbed his eyes. He had just woken up from a nap after a nap after a nap, and his head was pounding like anything. Oversleeping was just as bad as undersleeping, he discovered this summer. And it was worse today when his mind was troubled and his mobile was locked inside his dresser drawer.

"What's wrong with you?" Stevie poked Fernando's shoulder after the long silence.

Fernando snapped out of his daze. "What are you doing at my dorm?"

Stevie put his hands on his hips. "You weren't answering my texts or my calls. I figured something must have been up."

Fernando tried to keep a blank expression. "Nothing's up."

Stevie raised his eyebrow.

Fernando corrected. "Nothing _much_."

Stevie sighed and pushed past Fernando. He entered the room, took in the mess that the Spaniard had made, and in a no-nonsense way, he announced, "This is an intervention." 

"Why?" Fernando whined.

Stevie was working with military efficiency - he put Fernando's pillows in place, straightened out the sheets and threw the bed cover above it. He went to the windows and drew back the curtains.

"That's no use, Stevie. It's raining so badly outside," Fernando pointed out miserably. He missed the sun.

"At least now you can see the outside world," Stevie gestured to the window, overlooking the lawns of the school and the suburbs past the perimeter fence. "I want you to stop holing up in your room."

"I'm not holing up," Fernando protested, but already he was crawling back to bed, hoping to get under the cold sheets again. Stevie grabbed his arm and pulled him back, saying sternly, "Get dressed."

The Spaniard tried to sweet-talk his way out of it. He tugged at Stevie's sleeve and smiled meekly, "Can't we just stay in? We can order pizza, buy beer from the convenience store...?"

Stevie smiled back with the same amount of saccharine. "No."

Fernando groaned. "Stevie!"

Stevie laughed and threw Fernando the pair of jeans that was hanging on the back of his desk chair. "I told you, get dressed."

Grumbling, Fernando rummaged around his cabinet for a shirt to match with his trousers. "What's the plan, anyway?"

"Come on, we're going to the pub."

"Stevie, it's not even happy hour yet!" Fernando yelped.

Stevie winked, "Like you said, the sun isn't even out. It would just be like we were drinking in the evening, like decent people."

Fernando pouted, but he obediently put on his clothes.

Stevie nodded in approval, "Now, come on. I'll get you a drink. It looks like you need it."

As they were making their way out, Fernando did a double-take. He backtracked to his bedside table, "Do you think I should bring my phone?"

Stevie shrugged, waiting outside. "Why not?"

Fernando stared at the locked drawer pitifully. "Xabi said I should keep my mobile out of sight so I..."

"Don't give in to the temptation of texting Daniel. Oldest trick in the book," Stevie filled in, smiling knowingly.

"Yeah! But I won't switch it on, I'll just bring it in case - "

Stevie didn't miss a beat. "Leave your mobile."

*

The rain still hadn't let up by the time Xabi had gone out of Anfield High. He ran to the waiting shed to get a roof above his head. The last time he'd been caught in the middle of a downpour like this... Xabi smiled nostalgically at the memory.

A voice interrupted his daydreaming.

"What's a smart boy like you doing standing in the rain and smiling like a fool?"

Xabi turned and saw Pepe approaching, holding up a tiny pink umbrella. The Basque had to burst out laughing.

"Manly," Xabi commented.

Pepe batted his eyelashes and twirled around his umbrella like a parasol. "At least I'm not stranded in a bus shed."

"What are you doing out and about in this weather anyway?" The breeze whipped about them, and Xabi felt grateful he remembered to bring his heavy sweatshirt today.

"I met up with Yolanda for lunch," Pepe couldn't help but smile when he recounted it. "You?"

Xabi scratched his chin nervously, "Uh, I had class. But I ended up cutting it."

Before Pepe could respond, Xabi immediately changed the subject, "So, how are you and Yolanda doing?"

"We're doing fine, thanks for asking. But I know something else is bugging you, so maybe you should just tell me."

Pepe transitioned so seamlessly, his singsong tone carrying out through the two different topics. It took Xabi a second and a half to react.

"What? I - " He spluttered gracelessly.

Pepe wiggled his eyebrows. In his world, that probably signified victory.

Xabi sighed heavily. Then, he would attempt to speak, then he would stop, then think hard. Then he would deny that something was wrong, but stop halfway because Pepe would not look the least bit convinced anyway.

Finally, Xabi asked as neutrally as possible, every word carefully chosen: "Given the choice between two equally good people, how do you know which one you should pick?"

The question didn't even need to sink in. Pepe immediately snorted. "Oh, good job at the secret code, Xabs. I really couldn't read between the lines there."

Xabi blushed, pretending to be oblivious. The goalkeeper just shook his head, having none of the excuses.

Pepe gently placed a hand on Xabi's arm. "Xabi, when you cheated on Stevie with Harry, I figured, something must have been going wrong in your relationship. You wouldn't look for someone else if you were happy with who you were with. But seeing as you're still playing with fire _after_ the drama of your break-up with Stevie... I think maybe the problem is just you."

The keeper's tone was so kind, Xabi was caught offguard when the meaning of his words finally registered in his brain.

Pepe continued, "I don't know why you're eternally fascinated with Harry. Maybe you're in love with him. Maybe you're just challenged that he's the one that got away. And maybe you'll never completely let him go. But right now, you have to forget him."

Xabi stared at his rain-splattered loafers. "That's easier said than done."

Pepe gave the Basque a small, sympathetic smile. "I know, _hijo_. But if you haven't made up your mind yet, you shouldn't have let Stevie take you out and try to win your heart again."

The worry lines on Xabi's forehead creased deeper. "Augh," Xabi groaned to himself. "Why am I acting like this?"

Pepe sighed. He stood in front of Xabi and gripped his shoulders tightly so the midfielder would have no choice but to look up and listen. "Xabi, you have to forget about Harry." he said seriously.

Xabi laughed morosely. "How?"

Pepe threw his hands up in the air. "I don't know. Just do it!" He pressed his thumbs at the corners of Xabi's mouth to try and stop them from sagging. He didn't like seeing his friends so down. Pepe tried to crack a joke, "Leave it all behind. Like, when we leave this waiting shed."

Xabi snorted. "That's the deadline?"

"Yeah!" Pepe snatched the ballpen from Xabi's pocket. "Dear Harry, I'm moving on, fuck you," he announced as he began scrawling the words in big, angry letters on a poster plastered on one side of the shed.

Xabi's jaw dropped, "Pepe!" He grabbed the pen from Pepe's hands, aghast, "You can't deface public property with my emotions!"

Pepe crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Xabi pointedly. "Remember: by the time we leave this waiting shed," he reiterated the deadline tersely. "The rain's letting up already."

Xabi stared out at the streets. There were barely any cars out. The rain came down in smaller droplets now, and the air was getting saturated with the scent of wet grass. "Come on, let's leave while we can still make a run for it," he spoke up hollowly.

Pepe gave Xabi a quick once-over, then nodded. "Fine, come on. I'm not sharing my parasol with you if it rains any harder."

The keeper hopped down the steps and started brisk-walking down the sidewalk. Xabi lagged behind, fussing over his hood, zipping up the front, rolling up his jeans so the hems wouldn't get dragged into the puddles.

When Pepe was yards away, Xabi bit his lip. He stared at the poster the goalkeeper had scrawled on. He had just been able to write "Dear Har." Xabi uncapped his pen and started scratching out the letters.

"Come on, Alonso!" Pepe hollered from behind him.

Xabi tuned him out. He stared at the poster. A model was smiling at him cheerily. Mockingly. Xabi gripped his pen again, poising it over the face of the model. Pepe had written over the last empty space anyway. He didn't have a choice.

Xabi took a deep breath and then wrote, "Goodbye." He didn't address it to Harry. He didn't sign his name either. He just wrote the word in perfect, measured cursive across the cheek of the poster model.

The Basque slowly exhaled, and his chest felt so much lighter now. He dropped his pen to the ground, just so he could say he was leaving everything he could in this place. And when he took his first step out of the waiting shed, there was no momentous occasion. There was no orchestra swelling to music, no realisation that would bring him to tears. But as he walked farther and farther away, he felt better.

Pepe was waiting for him by the corner. Xabi offered him a tentative smile.

"Done?"

"Yeah."

"Beat the deadline."

"Yeah."

Pepe nodded. "Want to get a beer?"

Xabi checked his watch. It was barely 4 PM. "Sure."


	11. If you ever want me, then come on and cry

"No!"

"Yeah!"

"No fucking way!"

"I told you, it's true!"

"You've got to be kidding me."

"I couldn't come up with that joke if I tried."

Stevie shook his head from side to side in a futile attempt to clear his foggy thoughts. "So, Daniel picked Finns over you _again_?"

Fernando slammed his hands on the tabletop to emphasise his point. "Yes!"

The two burst out laughing.

"Jesus Christ, it could only happen to you!" Stevie gasped in between chuckles.

They were buzzed now. Stevie was always a heavy beer-drinker. Only a strict sit-up regimen kept him from getting a beer belly. Fernando never really preferred beer, but the bartender made him try the Hoegaarden. It was sweet and light but with the same alcohol content. Fernando chugged on it happily.

Stevie sighed and wiped the tears from his eyes.

Fernando leaned back on his chair too. He stared at a far distance and spoke detachedly, "Finns and Daniel, Xabi and Harry... Nobody ever really gets over anyone in this place, no?"

Stevie smiled and nodded. "And we get the short end of the stick because we only ever fell in love with one person."

They sighed again in commiseration.

Stevie glanced at Fernando. "Cheers?"

Fernando lifted his mug and clinked it against Stevie's. "Cheers."

*

When Finns arrived at the Anfield High dormitory, someone else was already there.

"Hey, stranger," Finns greeted cautiously. Daniel was sitting on floor by the doorstep of Harry and Fernando's dorm room.

"Hey," he greeted back with the same uncertainty.

"Looking for Fernando?" Finns gave his best, kindest smile.

Dan sighed, "Yeah. And if you're looking for Harry, sorry, it doesn't seem like anyone's home. I've been here for the last half hour."

"You're just waiting for Fernando here?"

"Yeah. I can't reach him through his mobile. But he's bound to come back here within the day."

The Dane leaned his head against the wall and put his earphones back on. Finns stared at him sympathetically. He reached down and patted his shoulder comfortingly.

"Thanks," Dan tried to muster up a grin.

Finns took his place beside Daniel and sat down cross-legged beside him.

Daniel suddenly switched off his iPod. "What are you doing?" He asked.

Finns was baffled. "...Keeping you company?"

Dan stared at him in disbelief. "You can't," he pointed out, as if he couldn't understand why Finns even _thought_ he could sit beside him.

"Yeah, but I'm also waiting for Harry." Finns explained slowly. He checked his watch, "His class should have just finished."

Daniel rolled his hands into fists. "Stephen!" He whined. "I'm waiting for Fernando. I need to talk to him! And if you're here with me, he's obviously not going to want to!"

Finns was taken aback. He held up his hands, "Okay, okay! Chill!"

"Leave!"

"I am!" Finns got to his feet and began collecting his things. He understood where Daniel was coming from. He really did. He'd been stressed and high-strung all weekend since his fight with Harry. Daniel couldn't have been better off. He never did know how to deal with his emotions properly.

Finns was ready to walk away, ready to give Daniel a free pass at a tantrum. But when Daniel added a side comment, saying, "...It's already your fault Fernando and I are even fighting to begin with," Finns' patience just snapped.

"Excuse me?" Finns whirled around to confront Daniel.

"You made me ditch Fernando."

"Correction - I _asked_ you to stay. You chose to." Finns mocked, "What are you, five?"

Daniel scrambled to stand up too. "You're always like this. You're... you're obsessed with your fear of being alone."

Finns recoiled, like he'd been slapped. "Well, you seem to be obsessed with the idea of being alone. Even without my help, you were single-handedly destroying your relationship with Fernando. Stop making me your scapegoat."

Daniel shoved Finns, and the Irishman pushed back.

"Guys, guys. Must you really do this in front of my room?" A voice drawled, interrupting them. Harry was standing a few metres away, tiredly dragging his book bag on the floor.

"Harry..." Finns gaped. He broke away from Daniel and immediately rushed to the Australian's side. Harry just shook his head and continued walking to his door.

"Harry, come on, talk to me," Finns said, holding on to Harry's arm.

"Harry, is Fernando in?" Daniel chimed in.

"Omigod, this is worse than being in class." Harry groaned, trying to ward off the two so he could concentrate on putting in the key in the keyhole.

"Harry!" The best friends nagged simultaneously to get his attention.

"Jesus, shut up!" Harry yelled as his keys jammed in the lock. He jangled the doorknob in frustration, before it finally unlocked with a rusty pop.

"First," Harry turned to Finns, "We don't have anything to talk about until you apologise." Then, he turned to Daniel, "Second, you're an ass. Why are you still here?"

Dan huffed. "I want to know where Fernando is!"

Harry snapped back, "Stop looking for him."

"You're his roommate, not his guardian."

"And you're what?" Harry challenged. He kicked open the door to his dormitory and threw his things down on his desk. Finns and Daniel piled into the room after him, uninvited.

Harry plucked a Post-It note the Spaniard left on his corkboard. He announced, "Fernando's out. With Stevie." He added with a smirk, "About bloody time."

Daniel snickered. "Oh, yeah, because if Fernando ended up together with Stevie, you would have Xabi all to yourself, right?"

"Fuck off," Finns cut in.

"Don't get your jealous panties in a bunch."

Harry snickered before he could even check himself.

Finns glared at the both of them. "Isn't it time you left?" He asked Dan pointedly.

"I don't know where Fernando is!" The defender yelped. "He's not answering my calls."

Finns rolled his eyes and dug out his mobile. Harry and Daniel watched him dumbly.

"Hello? ... Hi, Stevie. Where are you now?" Finns nodded as he listened to the Scouser on the other end of the line. "Okay. ... No, no reason. I just wanted to know. ... Okay, yeah. Bye."

The Irishman pocketed his cellphone. He nodded at Daniel, "They're at Flute and Firkin. Now go."

Daniel was already halfway out the door. He didn't bother thanking Finns.

It took the two boys a few minutes of awkward silence to realise they were alone. Finns looked up at Harry tentatively, but the latter turned away. He grabbed his towel and went to the bathroom.

"Feel free to leave too," Harry said. Then he shut the door behind him.

*

When Harry finished his shower, Finns was still in his dorm room. He was patiently standing in one corner, and it's not like Harry wasn't expecting that the boy would be waiting for him.

Still, he pretended to be surprised. "Huh," Harry grunted when he emerged from the bathroom. "You haven't left?"

Finns shuffled his feet. "Harry, we need to talk."

"So, talk." Harry shrugged indifferently.

Finns waited for the Australian to stop moving around. To stop and just stand in front of him, look at him and listen to what he was going to say. But Harry just flitted about, as if he had to do these everyday chores _right now_. He mopped the floor of the bathroom. He picked up his (most likely Fernando's) dirty clothes. He cleared the paperwork from his desk. So, Finns just began talking.

"I don't know why you're so - "

"Those aren't the words I want to hear." Harry hummed.

"Harry, you're not listening - "

"Still not those words."

"Fine!" Finns cried out. "I'm sorry. Are those the words you want to hear? I'm sorry?"

Harry didn't answer and proceeded with folding the fresh laundry.

"I'm sorry for what I did. I'm sorry for being so jealous of Xabi Alonso, and I'm sorry for being terrified of losing you." Finns recited the entire litany. "And while we're at it, I guess I can be sorry for seeking out Dan while we were fighting, and I'm sorry I made him miss his date with Fernando."

Harry snorted. "It's easy to say it."

"I'm sorry, but that's all I can offer."

The Australian straightened up slowly, then he turned to face Finns with his hands on his hips. "So, you're asking _me_ to take a leap of faith on _you_."

Finns struggled to remain steadfast, but he nodded. "If you can't do that, then I don't see why we're building a relationship to begin with."

Harry's face was unreadable. He closed the distance between them in three purposeful strides. He nudged Finns toward the bed and ordered, "Sit down." Then, he dragged his desk chair in front of the Irishman, so they could see eye-to-eye.

"We're setting rules in this relationship," he said. His tone was heavy and serious, and his word was laid down like law. Finns felt a tingle of anxiety run down his spine.

"I will never give you a reason to feel threatened by Xabi, and you will trust me." Harry wagged a finger, "At the same time, I will trust you completely when you start detaching yourself from Daniel."

Harry didn't pause for question or comment, and Finns just nodded eagerly like a child waiting for candy. "Yes, yes. Anything."

Harry wasn't up for games. He wasn't taking enthusiasm for obedience. "That's it," he stated plainly.

"Yes." Finns just kept on repeating, widening his eyes in a shallow attempt at conveying how sincere, how genuine he was. He asked meekly, "Are we okay now?"

Harry leaned back on his chair and let out a long, shaky breath. The quiet stretched on for too long, and Finns was at the edge of his seat, waiting to be knocked back with another insult, order or dismissal.

But Harry just finally nodded curtly.

The relief was subtle but overwhelming. It bubbled up inside Finns and all he wanted was to scream out loud and jump around and beam sunnily up at Harry. He wanted to roll around in bed and throw the pillows in the air. But Finns kept his emotions in check. He knew Harry wasn't angry anymore. He was never one to lie about his emotions. But he always needed his five, fifteen, thirty minutes of silence to lick his wounds and feel comfortable again.

Finns cleared his throat quietly. "Do you want to watch some TV? I hear they're showing reruns of Glee."

Harry made a face. "I always hated Rachel Berry."

"We'll wait for an episode where she gets a slushie thrown in her face."

"Okay."

Harry stood up to grab the remote, while Finns made space on the edge of the bed. 

"Are you comfortable there?" Harry asked, his tone level and emotionless. But he turned down his sheets and fluffed up the pillows, "You can stay here with me."

Finns bit the inside of his cheek so he wouldn't grin. "Okay. I'd like that."

*

"Omigod, I could be a Mexican," Fernando munched noisily into a taco and the shell broke all around his mouth. Tomatoes and ground beef and lettuce spilled everywhere, but the boy continued eating happily, like a pig in mud.

"And whose idea was this again?" Stevie teased.

"Yours," Fernando offered graciously.

"Thank you," Stevie laughed. He tossed a few nachos into his mouth and downed it with gulps of beer. The cholesterol and alcohol mixed together perfectly.

Fernando rubbed his hands together and grabbed another taco shell for himself. He sloppily put in the ingredients inside, most of them trickling down his fingers and dropping on the table.

"Jesus Christ, lad," Stevie laughed, shaking his head. He took a table napkin and dipped it into their glass of water. "Come here," he motioned, taking Fernando by the chin and forcefully wiping off the sauce from his face. Then, he grabbed the blonde's hands and removed the stains from his fingers.

"You're not a little boy anymore!" Stevie scolded, crumpling the tissue and throwing it to the floor.

"That's my look, you know," Fernando clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "The virgin that gets defiled."

Stevie's eyes widened then he blushed a bright, beet red, then he burst out laughing to hide his embarrassment. "Fernando, I didn't need to know that!"

Fernando laughed too, and even with a couple of beers in him, he had the decency to look sheepish. "Hey, don't act all innocent like!"

Stevie held up his hands, "Fine, fine. I can't say I haven't thought about it once or twice."

Fernando gasped loudly, and the next thing the Scouser knew, a cheesy nacho was being thrown at him. He ducked just in time, but Fernando was already yelling at him, half-flattered, half-ashamed. "I didn't mean it _that way_."

"Oh, you meant it that way." Stevie winked. Fernando hid behind his hands as they laughed at each other.

"You think about sex all the time," Fernando mused after.

Stevie shrugged. "It's all I can do. It's not like I'm getting any."

The striker choked on his beer. "Excuse me?"

Stevie let out a loud sigh. "I'm doing all I can to make sure nothing goes wrong between me and Xabi. We've just started seeing each other again. I don't want to force the issue of sex." He added quickly, "And I'm not complaining or anything."

Fernando smiled mischievously. "But?"

Stevie answered mid-swig, muttering to his beer bottle with a frustration coming from his gut, "But sometimes I just want to hold him down and fuck him."

Fernando blinked, nodded a few times. All he could utter was "wow."

Stevie whimpered, "Oh my god, Nando, I'm so horny."

"Okay, whoa, barriers," Fernando said, scraping his chair back and farther away from Stevie.

"I'm not gonna jump you," Stevie rolled his eyes. "I have standards."

Fernando stuck out his tongue. "Seriously, though, stop worrying about it. Xabi's not fragile. And it's definitely not the first time you guys are having sex. He'll stop you if he doesn't want it." He wiggled his eyebrows, "But I'm sure he misses you just as much."

Stevie hesitated. "So, you think I should just...?"

Fernando nodded. "Totally." He snickered, "But you know, don't attack him or anything. Cos he's here."

The Scouser lagged for a couple of moments, until he felt hands clap on his shoulders.

"Amigos!" Pepe greeted. He rounded their table then plopped down beside Fernando. "El Niño!" He ruffled his hair just to piss the striker off.

Stevie felt the air shift around him, making his ears tingle. Then, Xabi emerged from behind.

"Can we join you?" The Basque smiled.

For a while, Stevie was scared that he was just staring back blankly at Xabi. Then, he nodded, hurriedly pulling back the chair beside him. "Sure, sure."

Xabi sat down beside him. Stevie was all loose and carefree at this point. He greeted, "Hey, love."

Xabi was visibly taken aback, but he replied bashfully. "Hey, you."

Pepe and Fernando exchanged knowing glances.

"Xabi and Pepe, you two have a lot of catching up to do," Fernando interrupted. "We're already on our fourth round!"

Pepe clapped his hands excitedly, "Gimme gimme gimme!" He looked around, frantically trying to flag down a waiter.

Stevie nudged Xabi, "I'll get you your first drink?"

Xabi raised an eyebrow, challenging, "Only the first?"

"Ooh," Fernando hooted throatily, winking at Stevie. "Someone's frisky."

The Scouser kicked him under the table.

*

The rain raged as the day wore on. It made the alcohol cackle even more warmly in their guts.

Xabi's touch was hot. When he first brought down his hand on Stevie's thigh, the Scouser flinched so violently, Pepe asked him if he was okay. Xabi's hand remained there since. It was burning through the fabric of Stevie's khaki shorts; it was burning against his skin, branding him.

They ordered the next round, and with more beers in his system, Stevie got calmer and more used to Xabi's proximity. He leaned back against his chair to stop being so tense.

Xabi took that as a sign to roam freely - his fingers stroked lightly on Stevie's shorts, his nails making a scratchy sound as it grazed the fabric.

Stevie cleared his throat loudly, shifting in his seat to shake off Xabi's wandering hand.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Pepe asked again.

Fernando added, although there was a strange expression in his eyes, "You're acting funny."

Xabi leaned in close, as if to inspect Stevie's symptoms. Stevie blinked rapidly, his vision was unfocused now and Xabi was so _near_.

"Maybe it's the weather," Xabi suggested, and he checked Stevie's temperature. His palms were soft as he pressed it against the captain's forehead, neck and nape.

"I'm fine," Stevie croaked out, reaching for his beer again like a lifeline.

Xabi shrugged and dropped his hand harmlessly to his side.

The captain immediately returned to the topic they were discussing. Talking would calm his nerves. "Anyway, Fernando, do you still think you and Dan are having too much sex?"

Xabi scoffed. "There's no such thing!"

There it was again, that stupid tingling in Stevie's pants. He cursed inwardly.

Pepe shook his head. "Too much sex isn't the problem." He wagged his finger in front of Fernando as if he were lecturing a puppy. "It's just that you expect too much from the sex."

"What do I expect?" Fernando demanded.

"Love." Xabi made a face.

"Contentment." Stevie rolled his eyes.

"Butterflies." Pepe added helpfully.

Fernando's eyes flitted around, trying to catch everything the three others were saying. Their words overlapped drunkenly over each other's.

"Just enjoy the sex and think about the feelings later."

"Actually, just enjoy the sex."

"And since this is Dan, just enjoy the sex, and find somebody else!"

Fernando pretended to whimper, and he buried his face in Pepe's beefy shoulder.

"Next round, everybody?"

"Next round!"

*

"Can I?" Xabi asked. Pepe and Fernando had gone out to "get some air," which was ridiculous in this weather. But maybe they both finally got the hint that they were unwanted at the table.

"Can you what?"

Xabi raised his packet of cigarettes.

"You ask for my permission now?" Stevie asked, cocking his head to the side. The Basque hated having to consult Stevie if he could smoke - even when they were in a relationship. Stevie almost always said no. He despised smoking.

Xabi teased, "Well, you'll be the only victim of my second-hand smoke. And since most lung cancer patients are second-hand smokers, I figured it'd only be right to ask."

Stevie laughed. "Go ahead." He added, "But only because you're drinking."

Xabi thanked him, and his fingers expertly drawing out a stick from the pack and lighting it.

Stevie smiled to himself. Xabi was such an addict sometimes. He could see it in the way his face changed after his first puff. It was like all his features relaxed.

The Scouser fondly reached out and rubbed at Xabi's stubble. He didn't know why - he just saw it, dark against Xabi's strong jaw, and it was like he just wanted to feel it.

The Basque purred softly, and the look in Stevie's eyes turned to a darker glint.

"Come here," he whispered, hooking his arm around the back of Xabi's neck. Xabi grabbed at Stevie's hips, his hands quickly making their way underneath his shirt to feel the flesh below.

Stevie hissed loudly as Xabi palmed over the sensitive skin of his stomach.

"Hey, guys!" Pepe hollered as he returned to their table, Fernando a few steps behind him.

Xabi cupped Stevie's cheeks, and the captain crashed their lips together. Xabi's moan was soft but audible as they kissed ferociously.

"Oh, wow." Fernando stopped in his tracks.

"So." Pepe began, glancing at the striker. Fernando shrugged back.

"Maybe we should just go back outside."

"Hey, guys!" Somebody else greeted behind them. The two Spaniards looked over their shoulder - Daniel was approaching them.

Pepe looked to the sky and cursed, "Why, God? Why?"

"I hope I didn't miss the party."

"What are you doing here?" Fernando asked, not all too pleased.

"I couldn't reach you all day," Dan shrugged. "I figured I'd just find you instead so I could see you face-to-face."

Pepe groaned, staring at Xabi and Stevie's liplock and Dan and Fernando's impending breakdown. "I don't want to be the fifth wheel," he announced, turning to go. Fernando grabbed him by the shoulder determinedly.

"Stay," Fernando glared at the keeper meaningfully.

Pepe groaned, but plopped down obediently on his chair again. "Fine. But I'm stealing Stevie and Xabi's beers as repayment for this."

When their teammates weren't looking, Dan took Fernando's hand, "Do you want to go outside? I wanted to talk to you about the other day."

Fernando smiled weakly. "Oh, we just came from outside. How about we just sit here and drink with the others?"

Dan frowned, bur Fernando just pulled his hand away and took the seat between the wall and Pepe. Daniel had no other choice but to sit at the head of the table.

"Oy!" Pepe clapped his hands to get Stevie and Xabi's attention. The Basque was the first to break away. He had the decency to look down on the table first, before glancing at Pepe apologetically.

Pepe cursed crisply, complete with hand gestures. "Hijo de puta! Keep it in your pants!"

Stevie smirked. Xabi turned his gaze to the newcomer and commented coolly.

"Hey, Daniel. Glad to see you could make it today. Unlike other days."

Daniel tipped his beer at Xabi, "I'll give you that."

"Finns didn't need you today?"

The Dane glared at Stevie, "Okay, why don't you all just give me shit now, so we can move on?"

They all blinked at him innocently.

"What shit?" Fernando asked.

Dan gave up. "I'll buy everyone drinks, will that make you all happy?"

Pepe abruptly broke into a wide grin and put his arm around Daniel. "That's my boy! Now you stay right here beside me the entire night, okay? Feel free to buy me more."

*

Fernando figured his bladder or liver or whatever organ it was that took care of alcohol turning into piss - it could only handle seven beers usually. Tonight, he was at his ninth. Halfway to it, he had to run to the bathroom already to take a leak.

"Fucking hell," He murmured dazedly as he teetered on his feet, trying to stay as steady as possible so he wouldn't piss all over the urinal. Finally, when he had relieved himself, he heaved a long sigh. He zipped himself up.

"Feels great, doesn't it?"

Fernando jumped out of his skin.

Daniel laughed, leaning casually by the sink.

"You're bloody twisted. Have you been watching me the entire time?" The Spaniard demanded.

Dan smiled wryly. "I've been watching you the entire night." He pushed off the counter and approached Fernando. "And you've been ignoring me."

His tone was deep. His stance was dangerous. Dan advanced on Fernando. He didn't touch the striker or hold him or grab him. He just walked forward with a sinister glint in his eyes, that Fernando had no choice but to walk back until he got himself cornered. 

That was only when Daniel gripped Fernando's upper arms, holding them down. He kissed Fernando, long and searing. Kissed him with a force that knocked Fernando's head back.

"Nando," Dan breathed out his name. He thrust his hand down to the front of Fernando's trousers, pressing the heel down abruptly. Fernando hissed and jerked away.

"Come here," Dan said, gritting his teeth. He kicked the cubicle door closed and locked it, while the Spaniard watched him in silence. He wasn't leaving, but Daniel couldn't place why he was staying either.

Fernando just stood there, and even when Daniel grabbed at his belt buckle and haphazardly tugged his jeans open, he kept quiet.

"You're half-hard," Daniel snickered, as he took out Fernando's cock from his underwear. The Spaniard just flashed him a brief half-grin and shrugged. That annoyed Daniel even more. He shoved him to the wall of the cubicle.

Fernando was a strong boy. He didn't even flinch. But the rattling sound of the plastic was still loud and distressing in the empty bathroom.

"Just say it," Dan egged on, running his thumb along Fernando's bottom lip. With his other hand, he rapidly wrapped around the Spaniard's length and held it tightly. "Let it out," Dan said.

_Give me something here._

Fernando just leaned his head back on the cubicle and let his eyes drift shut.

Daniel closed his fist around Fernando's cock and pumped harder. He ran the pressure from the base to the tip, base to tip, left hand then right hand.

There was a small smile on Fernando's face as his breath came out in short bursts. A small, contented smile, like he was pleased with himself and he was just jacking himself off. Daniel pressed his body up against Fernando, reminding him that he was here, he was pleasuring him. Fernando moaned and let his lips run lazily over Daniel's cheekbones.

Daniel dropped to his knees. The tiles were wet with water and streaked with blackened footprints, but Daniel paid no heed. The night was more important than the stains on his jeans.

Fernando's cock was weeping already, and Daniel took that as a compliment. He licked off the pre-cum then without ceremony, slurped the cock onto his tongue and into his throat. He bobbed ferociously, feeling the head scrape against the insides of his mouth. In some demented way, he felt like he was compensating for being a bad date by giving good head.

Fernando groaned loudly. Dan shifted his eyes up to watch the Spaniard's facial expressions. His eyes were still closed, but his mouth had dropped open. Dan waited for the words to fall out - Fernando was a talker. Daniel loved hearing him talk during sex - native Spanish, broken English, Dan's name and a string of cuss words, permutations of "fucking hot," "fucking hard," "fucking tight," "fucking full" and "fucking me."

Dan blew Fernando more intensely, as if he could suck out a form of affirmation from him.

"No," Fernando choked out. He said that in bed too, sometimes. And he always meant it as "yes."

But the striker pushed Daniel off his erection and stepped away. From the floor, Daniel could only watch in confusion as Fernando grabbed his dick and jacked himself off. He blew his load in the toilet.

Daniel scoffed in disbelief. "What was that about?" He helped Fernando tuck his cock back into his pants, swatting the Spaniard's come-streaked hand away so he wouldn't stain his clothes.

Fernando looked away. "I... finished," he said lamely.

Daniel wrapped his arms around Fernando's neck. "I could have helped you finish."

Fernando chuckled weakly. "I know. Thanks for the offer."

Daniel leaned in to kiss him again, and Fernando reciprocated once, twice, then not at all.

"We don't have to hurry. It doesn't look like anyone's here," Dan teased as Fernando broke away a little too early for his liking.

"I'm tired."

Daniel nodded slowly, "Okay, it's okay. I understand."

Fernando nodded and gave Daniel a peck on the cheek. He unlocked the cubicle and head to the sink to wash his hands. Daniel watched him, anxiety bubbling in his chest.

"I have to go in a while. My mother wants me home early tonight." Dan offered, "Do you want to come with me? I can walk you to your stop."

Fernando looked up, his hands stopping for a brief second before they went back to rubbing up a lather. "Oh, no. It's okay. I was thinking of going back to join Pepe and Stevie."

"Okay, how are you getting home then?" Daniel asked, his tone starting to get testy.

Fernando shrugged like it was the easiest question in the world. "Stevie. He takes a cab with me to the dorms before he heads home."

Daniel scowled. "Oh, he does, does he?"

Fernando nodded earnestly.

"You sure you don't wanna leave with me? You've been drinking a lot for one night." Dan insisted, crossing his arms above his chest.

Fernando smiled innocently, "No, it's really okay. I'll stay with the others. But, it's okay if you have to leave early." He crumpled the paper towel in his hands and shot it expertly into the waste basket. Fernando gave Daniel a small wave, heading towards the door. He didn't bother waiting for the defender. "I'll see you back at our table!"


	12. It rains when you're here and it rains when you're gone

“Hey,” Stevie greeted gruffly into his mobile, rubbing his eyes from sleep.

“You're still in bed?” Xabi teased at the other end of the line.

“Hey, it's one of our few days without summer training. Let me be.” Stevie said, groaning loudly as he stretched.

“Right. Well, how would you like to use this free day to take me out to dinner?”

Stevie laughed out loud. “Xabier Alonso. Are you asking me to ask you out?”

“I am a liberated woman.”

“Baby, I think you're just an impatient man.”

Xabi scoffed. “Who can blame me? We haven't seen each other since last week!”

“I'm sorry, okay! Mum wanted to clean out the garage, and Pops complained of 'back pain' so I had to do all the heavy lifting.”

“Well, now that your blue-collar stint is over, can you be my boyfriend again?”

There was a stunned silence over the phone. They didn't know who was more surprised, Stevie or Xabi himself.

“I mean, that's the reason why you're dating me again, right?” Xabi laughed weakly. “Not that I'm assuming you're going to ask me to be your boyfriend again. But you know, not that I'd say no, of course. Of course, I'd say yes. And... and, yeah.”

Xabi's words tapered off, and there was dead air again. But Stevie glanced at himself through the mirror on top of his dresser and he was just grinning like an idiot.

“Xabier Alonso.”

Xabi answered sullenly. “What?”

“If I'm going to ask you to be my boyfriend, I will ask you myself.”

“I know.”

“And you know I will. But not over the phone just because you were naggin' me about it.”

“You're so old-fashioned, Stevie.”

“Yeah, and you like it. I mean, you already _promised_ you'd say yes.” Stevie snickered.

“Fine, fine!”

“Now, as for tonight, can we reschedule? I already promised Fernando I'd meet up with him.”

Xabi sighed. “If you must.”

“Sorry, Xabi, you know that lad's going through a bloody hard time trying to get over Daniel.”

“You think they're breaking up soon?”

“If there's even something to break up.”

“Oh, well.” Xabi tsked. “I still want to see you today though. How about for lunch?”

“Don't you have summer class?”

Xabi hesitated, then he said: “I'll cut it.”

“What?”

“Yeah.”

“Didn't you cut it already last week when you and Pepe met us at the pub?”

“Yeah, but I read up on the next five chapters anyway. It's no big deal.”

Stevie shrugged even though the Spaniard couldn't see it. “Well, as a firm advocate of skipping class, I'm not going to discourage you.”

Xabi laughed. “Good.”

“Where do you want to eat out?”

“Actually, I was thinking maybe we could hang out here at my place. You haven't been here in a while.”

“And sample Mikel's cooking again? Sounds like an adventure.”

“Exactly,” Xabi said. “I'll meet you here by 1.”

“Okay,” Stevie settled contentedly against his pillows. “I can't wait.”

*

“More,” Fernando panted against Daniel's neck, “More, more more.”

Daniel thrusted harder on top of him, his lips pursed tightly in a desperate effort not to make a noise. They were in Daniel's room and his parents were just downstairs, preparing lunch. Fernando had warned Daniel this was a bad idea, but the defender had just switched on the TV and turned up the volume to mask the sound of the bedframe shaking.

“Fuck!” The Spaniard groaned through clenched teeth as Daniel pushed in particularly slowly. His cock slid in deeper than before, and Fernando felt it pressing deep inside his gut. It was such an unnerving sensation; he never got used to it.

“Keep it down, baby,” Dan said, pressing a kiss to Fernando's lips.

Fernando discreetly turned away, pretending to throw his head back. No kissing, he had told himself when he let himself show up at Daniel's doorstep. Or, not too much kissing. Daniel wasn't absolved yet.

“Let's come together,” Daniel urged. He was trying _so hard_. Lately, he could barely get a reaction from Fernando. Like, right now - the Spaniard just nodded. “Okay, I'm near,” he said, stroking himself. On another day, he would have grabbed Daniel's hand and shoved it between his legs.

Daniel would have complained, but right now all his thoughts were consumed within something more primal, something more basic - he was sheathed inside Fernando, and he had a hunger to satifsy. His hips rolled, as if on auto-pilot, working to get as much heat and tightness around his shaft. He could feel the pleasure building up inside him. He stared down at Fernando and watched him pleasure himself, writhing on Daniel's sheets. And only when Fernando hit his orgasm did Daniel let himself come too.

They lay on their sweaty backs for a few quiet minutes, trying to catch their breaths. Then, Daniel felt the mattress shift as Fernando began to roll out of bed.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Daniel called out sternly. “Where are you going?”

“I should get cleaned up,” Fernando answered nonchalantly.

“And what's the hurry?”

“Your parents might get suspicious.” The blonde said.

Dan raised an eyebrow.

Fernando huffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

“They're busy downstairs,” Dan said. “Come here,” he ordered.

“It's okay, I need to go back to Anfield High anyway,” Fernando forced a small grin.

But Daniel wasn't buying it. Even Fernando's fingers were still shaking, weak from his orgasm. 

“Come here,” he said again.

Fernando put on his boxers, but he didn't pick up his jeans or shirt. Daniel took that as a chink in the Spaniard's armour.

“Do you have an urgent meeting back in school?”

“No, not really.”

“Then an extra couple of minutes here won't matter.”

And Fernando always loved Dan when he was demanding and demanding for him.

He returned to bed and climbed under the sheets. “I did miss your pillows,” Fernando relented, burrowing his face into the softness.

Daniel chuckled. “Well, you know you're always welcome here. I have too many pillows for one person.”

Fernando turned to look into Dan's eyes, to study him. Who was this Daniel and why was he sincere and intimate and genuine? And why wasn't he here more often?

Daniel gazed back at him, clearly not understanding what was troubling Fernando these past few days. And for the first time in a long time, it was like they couldn't understand each other anymore. And Fernando had to remind himself why he was pretending to be strong because if this was victory, it was only making his heart feel heavy. 

Fernando frowned and rolled on his side, turning his back on the Dane.

“What's wrong?” Daniel asked.

“I'm tired.”

“Well, you can stay here longer.”

Fernando shrugged noncommittally.

“I'll set my alarm. One hour?”

“Half an hour.”

“What? That's - “ Daniel huffed in frustration behind him, and it seemed like he would protest again. Fernando pretended like he had drifted to sleep, keeping his breathing even.

“Fine,” Daniel mumbled to himself. He gingerly moved closer to Fernando, taking care not to wake him. And when Fernando didn't stir, Daniel risked wrapping an arm around Fernando's waist so he could spoon up against him.

Fernando tried to keep very still, but Dan's proximity was making him hyper-sensitive. The hairs at the back of his neck were standing on end and tingling at the slightest move. And when Daniel nuzzled against Fernando's nape, pressing his nose against the back of his ear and inhaling deeply, Fernando couldn't help his breath from hitching. 

“Daniel...” Fernando purred.

The fire was ignited in him again. If Daniel wanted Fernando for a second round, the Spaniard would readily offer himself.

Fernando looked over his shoulder, eyes dark and lustful. But to his surprise, Daniel was just watching him with a soft, innocent smile on his face. The defender ruffled his hair fondly, “Get some sleep, Torres.”

*

Xabi was studying when he heard the doorbell ring.

“That must be Stevie,” he murmured to himself.

He scanned the page he was reading one more time, before closing the textbook. He had done some more advanced reading for his Chemistry class, and the lessons were fortunately less complicated than he expected. He just wished he had more exercises than the chapter reviews they had in the book. They weren't really all that challenging.

Not to mention that Xabi was still a grade-conscious nerd inside - even if this was just a summer class. The last time he checked, he was still the top student in their group. But what if they had an assignment while he was gone? Or a graded recitation? Or - Xabi gasped to himself - a surprise exam? He was going to get poor marks just because he was absent. He's never missed two consecutive class sessions before. Even when he got a bad case of flu last semester, he showed up to his classes with a runny nose and a pounding head and infected everyone in school.

“Xabier! Stevie's here!” Mikel bellowed from downstairs.

Xabi sighed. “I'm coming!” He put his book and his notes neatly inside his bag.

Unfortunately, he couldn't show up to Chemistry class. Not today, at least. He couldn't see Harry.

Not that he was going to jump in Harry's arms and profess his undying love. Nothing like that. In fact, this was the most sure Xabi's been in a long time - he wanted to get back together with Stevie, and he wanted to put the whole Harry Kewell saga behind him.

But the wounds were still too fresh, and was that wrong? Xabi was allowed to feel vulnerable, right? This would not be a good time to see Harry, much less sit in his class and pretend that nothing had gone on between them. Not the fight last week, not the pining all through out the summer break, not the indiscretions last school year, and not the genuine, undeniable attraction between them ever since Xabi's entered Anfield High.

“Xabi!” Mikel called out again.

Xabi looked at himself in the mirror and fixed his hair.

Moving on from Harry wasn't going to be easy. Far from it. But Harry was leaving Liverpool soon anyway, and then, Xabi would have no choice but to forget him. For now, though, he was just going to have to keep it together as best he could.

Xabi took a deep breath and headed downstairs.

Mikel was already ushering Stevie to the kitchen, bragging about the new lasagna recipe he got from Jamie Oliver's show. Stevie looked terrified - Mikel's cooking was atrocious as it was. Mikel imitating Jamie Oliver surely wasn't going to be any better.   
Xabi chuckled as he watched the two. He let himself enjoy the way his heart skipped a beat.

“Humour him, Stevie,” Xabi said, jumping down the last few steps of the staircase. “Mikel's been taking cooking lessons, so he's always eager to try his nifty, new tricks.”

“Wow,” the Scouser sounded relieved. “So, what have they been teaching you in cooking class, Mikel?”

The elder Basque shrugged. “Nothing I didn't know before.”

Xabi and Stevie snorted in unison.

“Well, come on then, Stevie. Let's go upstairs.” Xabi said, taking the Scouser's hand.

Stevie waved at Mikel with his free hand, calling over his shoulder, “Just let us know if you need some help with your lasagna!”

Mikel put on his apron with a flourish, “Actually, now that you've mentioned it, I do need a couple of apprentices. The recipe can be a bit challenging.”

The pair stopped in their tracks so abruptly, Xabi almost tripped on the steps.

“Come on, I have enough mixing bowls for all of us!” Mikel said. “And look!” He gasped, pulling out three wooden spoons from the kitchen drawer. “Spoons too!”

“Mikel, Stevie's a guest. Let's not bother him with - “

“Psh, that's nonsense!”

“I'm afraid I'm not really a good cook, Mikel.”

“Oh, it's never too late to learn!” Xabi's older brother said, ushering them over. “You're in good hands. I will be your mentor.”

Stevie turned slowly towards Xabi, smiling sheepishly. The Basque did not look happy.

“You had to offer? Really?”

“I was only trying to be polite.” Stevie squeaked.

Xabi just glared at him.

“Come on, boys! Time's a-wastin'!”

*

When Fernando arrived at the dormitories, Harry was just heading out.

“Hey,” the Spaniard greeted. “On your way to class?”

Harry nodded. Fernando noticed he was still pale; the bags were dark under his eyes.

“Still not sleeping well?”

“No, no,” Harry scoffed at the idea. “I just had to finish the final exams for my class, so I stayed up late.”

Fernando didn’t press the issue. He just wrapped his arm around Harry’s shoulders and hugged him. “Well, get some rest later, okay?”

Harry smiled. “Of course.” He was halfway down the hall already when he stopped and called out: “By the way, your mother kept calling this morning!”

Fernando stopped jiggling his key into the doorknob. “Shit. I’ve been forgetting to call her these past few days.”

“Yeah. She’s been asking about you!”

Fernando waved, “Alright, I’ll talk to her. Thanks, Harry.”

He entered their dorm room and lay down on his bed. Yanking the telephone from the dresser, Fernando dialled the number he knew by heart. The first ring was barely finished when somebody already answered.

“Hola?”

“Mama.”

“Oh my goodness, _por dios, por santo,_ Fernando!” His mother screeched down one end of the line. “I’m so happy to hear from you!”

Fernando laughed, “Sorry, I wasn’t able to call earlier – ”

But his mother already cut him off. It was like she had flicked on the switch – from doting and caring, she turned stern and scolding.

“Fernando Jose Torres Sanz. What did I tell you when your father and I allowed you to move to Liverpool? What did we tell you?” She demanded.

Fernando babbled, “W-what? You tell me a lot of things, ma!”

“I told you to call us every day! How long has it been since you called, Fer? I’ve been calling your room for the last three days, I’ve spent more time talking to Harry Kewell than you! Now you remind me to send him over a little pack of Spanish goodies. Your Tia Isabel just started her own bakery and you would love these butter cookies she makes.”

Fernando chuckled in nostalgia. His mother was talking a mile a minute again, zipping from one topic to the other. “Oh, ma, I missed you.”

Fernando’s mom stopped mid-sentence. She cooed, “I missed you too, honey.”

Fernando hugged his pillow tightly, his chest tightening all of a sudden.

Mrs Torres continued, “Now tell me, is there really no chance we could convince you to come back to Madrid for summer? You’ve already spent the entire school year there, plus the first month of your summer. Some of your friends from Parque 84 dropped by today. They thought you’d be home for the break! And my, Antonio has grown so tall! I think he’s even taller than you, Fer.”

Fernando frowned. Antonio was one of his best friends growing up in Fuenlabrada. He remembered they were still exchanging long emails when he had just arrived in Liverpool. And then, Fernando sort of lost track of him, lost time to talk to him and lost all contact.

The striker sighed, “Ma, I told you. I can’t go home for the summer, I…”

Fernando paused. What excuse did he give again?

“I know, you said you had pre-season training. But the Reinas said Pepe was coming home next week. I’m sure Rafa could give you a couple of weeks off too!”

Oh. Pre-season training. Of course, it was highly encouraged to enrol yourself in the pre-season fitness regimen. But it wasn’t required – most of the football squad were foreigners and had to go home for the vacation.

No, Fernando just used that as an excuse so he could – Fernando stared at the ceiling and huffed in frustration – so he could spend time in Liverpool and waste his summer on Daniel.

“I’ll think about it, okay? I’ll ask Rafa for permission.” Fernando murmured. A heavy, sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

“Good, and you tell me as soon as you can. We’re preparing a trip to Costa Del Sol next week. We haven’t booked the hotel yet, so if you’re heading back to Madrid, I can put you in a room with Israel. He says you always ignore him on Facebook.”

Fernando replied wistfully. “I miss Costa Del Sol. I miss the beach. It keeps raining here, mom.” The last part of his sentence tapered off into a whine, and he felt like a little boy running off to complain to his mother.

“Yes, well, that’s what you get. Don’t forget to bring an umbrella when you go out, okay? And at the slightest sign of colds, I want you to drink your Vitamin C.”

“Yes, ma.”

“Good boy. Now, your father’s just come down. Hold on.” Fernando heard his mom put down the phone on the table. She yelled in the background, “Jose! Darling! Fernando’s on the phone! … Yes, yes, our youngest son. He’s still alive! Now run over here before he disappears on us again for a week!”

*

Stevie never remembered the Alonso kitchen being so cramped. He wondered if the space between the counter and the stove was really that narrow, because it felt like everytime Xabi passed behind him, their bodies would always brush against each other's.

Stevie froze - there it was again. Xabi headed to the pantry for some ingredients and his leg brushed against the Scouser's.

“Oh, excuse me.” Xabi said, glancing at Stevie with a glint in his eye.

“S'okay,” Stevie choked out, throat feeling tight.

To be fair, not all contact was incidental. Sometimes, Xabi would pat his back encouragingly, or caress his arm while he was chopping carrots, or watch over Stevie's shoulder to check on the herbs.

But most of the time, it was the unintentional, passing touches that was putting Stevie on edge.

Xabi hummed innocently as he walked back to his workstation, busy reading the label on a tin of tomatoes. Stevie turned to the side to warn Xabi to watch where he was going, but -

“Oof.” Stevie groaned as Xabi ended up walking into him.

“Stevie!” Xabi yelped, hurriedly putting down the food he was carrying. “Are you okay? I'm sorry, I wasn't looking.”

Mikel looked up distractedly from the lasagne sheets he was simmering. He didn't look happy about being disturbed.

“Sorry, Mikel,” Stevie said. He turned to the younger Alonso, “It's fine. I've seen worse tackles.”

“But,” Xabi ran his hands down Stevie's stomach, as if to inspect for any damage. He stared at Stevie through thick lashes, “Are you sure?” He asked coyly.

Stevie bit his lip. Damn this man. Damn. This man.

He took a step back to put a safe, respectable distance between them. “I'm fine,” he croaked.

Xabi nodded, the corners of his lips twitching. “Okay. Just checking.”

*

_D. Agger: Hey, man. Are you busy?  
S. Finnan: Not really. Just got up. I love summer!  
S. Finnan: Why, what’s up?  
S. Finnan: I’m surprised Fernando even let you talk to me, haha.  
D. Agger: Yeah, well. It’s not like he really cares much anymore.  
S. Finnan: Got let off your leash?  
D. Agger: I don’t think there’s even a leash. I don’t think there’s even a doghouse left.  
D. Agger: Are you still getting this analogy?  
S. Finnan: No, not really. You took it a little too far.  
D. Agger: Haha, sorry. You started it.  
S. Finnan: So, what’s Fernando doing now?  
D. Agger: Actually, it’s what he’s not doing that’s bothering me.  
D. Agger: He’s not giving me the cold treatment or anything. It’s just.  
D Agger: He doesn’t text as much. He doesn’t call at all.  
S. Finnan: But you still see each other?  
D. Agger: Yeah, he was just here a while ago.  
S. Finnan: Wow. The early bird catches the worm, hmm.  
D. Agger: Hahaha. Something like that.  
S. Finnan: But, you know. Isn’t this kind of awesome for you?  
S. Finnan: You still get to hang out with him. You still get to fool around with him.  
S. Finnan: But you don’t have to really be with him.  
S. Finnan: That was what you wanted, right?  
D. Agger: Was it? I don’t know!  
S. Finnan: Well, has he gotten mad at you recently?  
D. Agger: No. Strangely enough. Not even when I stood him up.  
S. Finnan: Uh-oh.  
D. Agger: What?  
S. Finnan: Sounds like the calm before the storm, honey.  
D. Agger: Fucking shit.  
D. Agger: What if it’s just… calm?  
S. Finnan: HA. Wishful thinking, Agger.  
D. Agger: FUCKING SHIT.  
S. Finnan: Better run for cover, Danny boy. Usually, the calmer it is, the bigger the storm afterwards.  
D. Agger: I’m doomed._

*

“Stevie?” Xabi called out in an uncharacteristically helpless voice.

The Scouser braced himself. He turned to face Xabi, “Yes?”

Xabi tilted his head to the side and smiled. “If you’re not busy, maybe you could taste the sauce that I’m making? I can’t tell if I made it too salty.”

Stevie didn’t know why he was apprehensive. He sensed Xabi was up to no good. Not that he wouldn’t welcome that. He loved it when Xabi got frisky. But they were in their family’s kitchen. With Xabi’s older brother keeping watch.

“Come on, Stevie,” Xabi was almost taunting. The way his eyes twinkled, you knew it wasn’t the tomato sauce he was excited about.

Stevie cast a wary glance on Mikel, but he was busy poring over his cookbook. This was his golden opportunity. Stevie went over to Xabi in three, large, quiet strides.

“Welcome,” Xabi grinned.

“Always ready to help,” Stevie said. His fingers were already starting to tingle.

Xabi got a clean spoon and scooped a small amount of tomato sauce. Stevie obediently opened his mouth, and Xabi fed him the sauce. They didn’t take their eyes off each other.

“It’s good,” Stevie said, savouring the flavour on his tongue.

“Are you just saying that to get on my good side?” Xabi teased, wiping off a smidgen of sauce on the corner of Stevie’s lip.

“I’m already on your good side.”

“Where’s my good side?”

Stevie stepped closer so their arms and legs grazed each other’s. “Right here.”

Xabi glanced down at the small space between them. “A little closer.”

Stevie snickered and took a huge step forward, pushing Xabi into the counter. The Basque moaned softly.

“We could be in my bedroom right now,” Xabi murmured under his breath. “But you got us stuck on kitchen duty.”

A table was the only thing separating them from Mikel, but it hid the lower halves of their bodies enough. Feeling brazen, Stevie reached out to caress the side of Xabi’s leg. He felt the Basque shiver just slightly.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“Now.”

Stevie’s eyebrows rose. “Now?”

Xabi grinned.

“Boys!” Mikel called out.

The two jumped away from each other.

“Yes?” Stevie coughed out.

“What are you doing?” Mikel asked, putting his hands to his hips. His forehead was furrowed in concern.

Xabi swooped in, “I was just getting some more pepper for this.” Before Mikel could question him, Xabi carried on confidently, “Stevie, could you keep stirring the sauce for me? You can use this ladle.”

Stevie immediately grabbed the ladle and mixed the sauce vigorously.

Mikel looked torn between lecturing his brother and calling Stevie’s attention. Finally, he settled for the latter, saying, “Stevie, take it easy on the stirring.”

Xabi returned with the pepper, and Stevie didn’t really know if Xabi knew what he was doing.

“Do you really need the pepper? Wasn’t that just an excuse?” Stevie whispered.

Xabi just shrugged and uncapped the condiment gleefully.

“We’re going to have to end up eating this, you know.”

The Basque stared at him blankly. Stevie sighed, “Fine. Go crazy then.”

He stepped away to make room for Xabi by the pot, but Xabi just kept him in place. Instead, he stood behind Stevie and reached around him to sprinkle the pepper on the sauce. Stevie was trapped by the stove.

“There, just keep stirring so the taste is even,” Xabi was saying, but the words were just tickling the shell of Stevie’s ear, and he couldn’t concentrate on anything else. Stevie gripped the stem of the ladle tightly.

“Xabier!” The older Alonso exclaimed more sternly now. “And Steven!”

As the Scouser jolted at Mikel’s outburst, he accidentally hit his hand on the stove. It took Stevie a second and a half before the sensation dawned on his brain – heat and pain and Stevie immediately withdrew his hand and yelped, “Ow!”

Mikel froze. “What happened?” Xabi grabbed Stevie’s hand to inspect the damage. Behind him, Mikel was already panicking, “Oh no, oh no. Oh no! This wasn’t in our first aid lessons in class!”

Stevie’s fingers were barely turning pinkish, but still Xabi turned to his older brother and feigned urgency, “It’s getting swollen. You should get the cooling salve fast!”

“W-what? I don’t think that’s the right – ”

“Mikel! Just get it!”

Mikel snapped out of his funk and ran up the second floor.

The kitchen was still. Stevie spoke up slowly, “I’m not really that hurt – ”

Xabi shook his head in disbelief. Must he do everything around here?

He grabbed Stevie by the shoulders and roughly sat him down in one of the chairs. In one fluid movement, he straddled the Scouser and slammed their lips together. The kiss was an explosion of all the tension they’ve been desperately trying to rein in. Stevie moaned so hungrily into the liplock, it sent shivers down Xabi’s spine.

Stevie broke apart and panted quietly, “Xabs, please don’t… don’t move around so much.” He glanced down at his lap and frowned, “Fuck it, I’m getting hard already.”

Xabi glanced at Stevie’s crotch too, and it was the worst time for Stevie to be wearing his soft, khaki shorts. The well-worn material draped over his growing bulge. Xabi slowly rolled his hips forward just to know if Stevie could get harder.

The Scouser closed his eyes and groaned.

“I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” Mikel’s heavy footsteps were like thunder as he clambered down the stairs.

Xabi calmly slipped off Stevie’s lap. He tossed an apron to the other boy.

“Hide that,” Xabi glanced pointedly at Stevie’s erection.

Stevie tied the apron around his waist and started taking deep breaths to calm his system down. Mikel arrived soon after, and Stevie stalled for a second before he could even remember where his burn mark was.

“I think you should sit out the rest of the cooking, Stevie,” Mikel said. He watched on worriedly as Xabi applied the cooling salve on Stevie’s fingers.

Xabi’s eyes widened, and Stevie instantly read his mind.

“Are you sure?” Stevie asked. “It doesn’t even hurt as much anymore. I could still help you prepare the bread.”

“No, no.”

“It doesn’t even look that bad.” Xabi added.

“No.” Mikel said, shaking his head guiltily. “We’re almost done anyway. I’ll just put the lasagne in the oven myself. You boys go upstairs and relax.”

“…Okay then.”

“If you insist.”

“I’ll call you when the food’s ready,” Mikel said, waving them off.

With an eerie sense of calm, Stevie and Xabi left the kitchen and took the stairs, walking in small, slow steps.

The moment they turned the corner, though, they broke into a sprint in perfect unison.

Xabi kicked his bedroom door closed. His heart was pounding in his ears and the blood was racing through his veins. But when he turned around, Stevie was still fumbling with the buttons of his shorts. Xabi grunted in frustration. He pushed his hands in Stevie’s pants and took out his cock, not even bothering with undressing.

Xabi took a moment to enjoy the heaviness and hardness of Stevie’s member in his palm. A sinister smile spread on his lips. When he glanced up, Stevie was practically salivating.

“Sit,” Xabi ordered, and Stevie obediently took his place at the edge of the Basque’s bed. Xabi dropped to his knees.

“Oh my – ”

Xabi took Stevie’s cock into his mouth, planting his hands on the bed for leverage as he bent forward to slide the length down his throat. Stevie had to bite down on his fist to keep from making a noise.

*

“There’s something different about you.”

Stevie put on his best expression of innocence. “Excuse me?”

Fernando tossed the football from one hand to another, studying Stevie’s face. “You look happy.”

“Am I not happy all the time?”

The Spaniard rolled his eyes. Pedantic jokes – a sure sign of defensiveness. But Stevie just kept on walking as they both looked for an empty patch of grass to play on. The park was busy today. Friends sat in huddles, sharing chips and soft drinks. Couples lay under the shade of the trees, cuddling. Other people read books or sunbathed by their lonesome.

“Here,” Stevie said. There were yards and yards of free space in the middle of the lawn because the sun was shining directly on it.

“Okay,” Fernando said, shrugging. He combed his hair back and secured his headband. “I’m ready.”

Stevie took the ball from the striker and juggled it easily on his foot and knees. Then, he lobbed a simple pass to Fernando, who chested it down. They took it easy, not wanting to disrupt their pre-season training and fitness plan.

Then, Fernando stopped abruptly, the ball rolling away from his feet.

“What?”

“Omigod, Steven George Gerrard. You have a sex glow. I knew it.”

Stevie’s face heated up. “What? Can you just get the ball?”

But Fernando just shook his head, a big grin spreading on his face. “Tell me how it went.”

“I don’t have a,” Stevie dropped his voice, “Sex glow or whatever it is you call it.”

“You do!” Fernando insisted. He walked towards Stevie and pinched his cheeks. “You dooo.”

Stevie pushed him away, but he was already starting to laugh along with the Spaniard.

“What was it? A handjob? A blowjob?” Fernando wiggled his eyebrows, “All the way?”

Stevie tried his best to look nonchalant. “It was just a quickie. Now, can we drop the topic?”

But Fernando could not be deterred. “A quickie? A quick what?”

“Bloody hell, Fernando, why do you wanna know?”

Fernando blinked. “Okay, so I take that to mean you went all the way.”

“What? I didn’t say – ”

“You went all the way with Xabi Alonso. Welcome back, Stevie. Good job.” Fernando said, clapping slowly.

“Jesus,” Stevie said, pulling down Fernando’s hands. “Stop it, people are starting to look!”

Fernando looked around and shrugged. “Of course people are looking. Most of the kids here in the park go to our school.” He flipped his hair and winked at Stevie, “And they have just spotted Captain Fantastic and the Golden Boy.”

Stevie burst out laughing. “You’re crazy.”

“Uh-huh. Watch.”

Fernando jogged to retrieve the ball. When a group of girls noticed where Fernando was headed, one of them immediately ran to get the ball. Then as casually as she could, she approached Fernando and held it out for him with a sweet smile.

“Oh. Thanks.” Fernando said, smiling sheepishly.

Stevie rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine,” he relented as Fernando returned. “You’re the heartthrob, I get it.”

Fernando shook his head. “Quit the false modesty, Gerrard. I bet if you took off your shirt now, the crowd would double. Instantly.”

Stevie laughed, until he felt the striker tugging up his shirt. He dodged away, yelping, “Fernando! I am not stripping for these people!”

“It’s a hot day, Stevie.”

“You’re groping me!”

“Hey, guys!”

Stevie and Fernando stopped roughhousing and turned around to find a group of boys approaching them. Their faces looked familiar – a couple of them were their classmates in different subjects.

“Do you want to join our pick-up game? We could have a five-a-side.”

Stevie and Fernando glanced at each other. The striker smiled wryly but kept quiet. Times like these, he let the captain take charge.

Stevie stepped forward. “Are you sure?”

One of the biggest lads of the group faltered for a brief moment, but he rallied on. “Yeah. In fact, we were hoping we could have the both of you on one team.”

“Not that we’re underestimating you, of course,” someone else chimed in.

“Yeah, yeah. We just want to test out our skills against proper opponents, y’know.” The gap-toothed boy grinned at Stevie, “We wuz classmates in gym class last year.”

Fernando stifled a snort. Like Stevie ever showed up to his gym classes. Being varsity captain had its perks, and that included unlimted cuts in gym class.

Ever diplomatic, the Scouser just smiled, “Yeah, of course. Add me on Facebook, yeah?”

“Anyway, we’ll take it easy, we promise.” The leader spoke again. His voice was deep and gruff, but his eyes were twinkling with eagerness. “We won’t tackle Nando or anything. We don’t want him injured when the season starts.”

Fernando nodded slowly, choosing to be flattered with that statement.

Stevie, however, took offence on his behalf. “Tackle Nando?” He snickered, “Boys, you’d have to catch him first.”

The newcomers glanced unsurely at each other. Fernando and Stevie grinned.

“Now, come on. Enough talk.” Stevie said, and even outside the team, he spoke with distinct authority.

“Let’s go!” Fernando smiled brightly at the other boys.

Their schoolmates excitedly split up into teams, tumbling over each other to improvise a pitch.

Stevie murmured to Fernando. “Predict the scoreline?”

Fernando crossed his arms over his chest, scrutinising their opponents. “Three-nil?”

Stevie barked a laugh. “Five-nil.”

“Wow, a proper rout?”

“Yeah. I’ll let you get a hat-trick, if you let me get the brace.”

Fernando clapped Stevie’s back. “Deal.”

“

In the end, neither of them got it right. The game ended at four-nil – Fernando got two, Stevie added another and then the other team scored an own goal. The Spaniard wanted to make it a hat-trick, but it was too dark and a couple of the boys had to head home (or save their egos from further beating, especially since a veritable crowd had started to form around their pick-up game).

Fernando lay down on the grass, cradling a cold bottle of Gatorade to his chest. “Wow. I’ve missed the feeling of just playing a game in the park.”

“Yeah,” Stevie hiked up his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow. “That felt good, huh?”

Fernando nodded and sighed contentedly. Stevie sat down beside him and studied his friend.

“You know how you could tell I had a… what did you call it? An orgasmic glow?”

Fernando laughed. “A sex glow.”

Stevie chuckled too. “Well, now, it’s my turn. You’ve been spacing out all afternoon.” He nudged Fernando’s chin, “Stop frowning.”

Fernando waved his concerns away. “It’s nothing.” He huffed, “I just got to talk to my parents this morning, and I didn’t realise how badly I’ve been missing them.”

Stevie noticed the corners of Fernando’s mouth sagging again. He asked gently, “You’re not going back to Spain this summer?”

“Well, I could. At least I should have.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“It’s my first summer in Liverpool. I guess… I just wanted to spend time here with my new friends.” Fernando trailed off, sounding unsure of himself.

Stevie answered, “Nando, we’ve all been friends for months now. We’re not going to disappear just because you’ve gone for a vacation.” He added, “Besides, you don’t need to spend even more time here. That’s what the entire school year is for.”

Fernando chuckled weakly. “I’ve been stupid, haven’t I?”

“Yes, yes. Just a tad.” Stevie paused, his eyes narrowing. “Unless there’s another reason.”

Fernando glanced at Stevie. The Scouser understood and he shook his head in disbelief.

“Daniel.” They said in unison.

And Stevie has been Fernando’s friend for a long time. He’s listened to all his problems and stood by him through it all. But for the first time ever, Fernando saw a spark of irritation in Stevie’s eyes. And the Scouser’s voice was laced with impatience.

“Fernando, why don’t you just leave him?” Stevie demanded.

Fernando flinched. He knew Stevie was only trying to help, but his anger only made the Spaniard raise his voice too. “No! Stevie, I really like him!”

Stevie rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on. How can you like someone who _regularly_ makes you feel terrible?”

Fernando crossed his arms over his chest. There was no proper answer to that.

“Well, I’m the one who’s dating him, not you. So, get off my case.”

“No. Not until you set him straight.”

“I’m getting to it,” Fernando sighed.

“Oh, really? Have you told him how heartbroken you were when he stood you up last week?” Stevie challenged.

Fernando looked like he’d been slapped.

“I thought so. But you couldn’t stop complaining to me and Pepe and Xabi.”

The words stung, and Fernando snapped back. “Look, if you’re getting tired of listening to me and my problems, then just tell me.”

Stevie sighed and rubbed his temples. “It’s tiring because it’s the same thing over and over again. And honestly, you’re as much to blame for that as Daniel is.”

Fernando didn’t answer. He just stared stubbornly into the night sky, his jaw clenched.

“Fernando,” Stevie spoke again. His tone was still stern, but it was gentler this time. “Sometimes, he needs to know what you need.”

They sat in tense silence for a long time. The park started to empty, and the wind picked up a chill.

Finally, Fernando sighed and stood up. “We’d better get going.”

Stevie stared at the younger boy, but his expression was unreadable. He got to his feet too, brushing off the grass and dirt from his shorts and legs.

“Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

*

As much as Fernando tried to dissuade him, Stevie still walked the Spaniard to the waiting shed and even got on the bus with him. All five miles to the opposite direction of his house. They travelled in silence, though. Stevie stared straight ahead down the aisle, while Fernando looked out the window.

“Sorry I snapped at you,” Stevie said.

Fernando cracked a small smile. “I deserved it.”

They were both quiet again, but the silence was light now. Natural. They arrived at the Anfield High stop, and Stevie stood up to led the way out the bus, holding the door so it wouldn’t close on Fernando.

“Thanks,” Fernando said as he hopped down the steps.

Their trainers scratched noisily against the asphalt as they trudged up the school.

“You know what I need?” Fernando asked suddenly.

Stevie turned to him, forehead wrinkling in confusion.

“I need just… those embarrassing little things. Like, I want Daniel to know what my favourite colour is. Or what boot I put on first.”

Stevie stared at Fernando, afraid to interrupt.

“I want him to text me just to ask if I’ve gotten home safely and then get mad when I don’t text him back. I want him to tell me I look good, even when I don’t.” Fernando laughed shakily, staring down at his hands, “And I want him to kiss me on the cheek. And hold my hand when we walk.”

He glanced at Stevie unsurely. And when he saw the look of sympathy on Stevie’s face, Fernando felt even more self-conscious.

“Forget I said anything. This is stupid.” Fernando shook his head.

“Hey,” Stevie called out, refusing to let Fernando clam up.

They stopped walking and Fernando felt so exposed, the way Stevie was scrutinising him. His chest felt tight, and he was just scared of what Stevie might say because it might make him cry.

Stevie reached out to sweep Fernando’s bangs from his face. His blond hair needed dyeing, and it was getting tangled in knots in the back too. His face shone with sweat and his t-shirt was streaked with mud and grass stains.

“You look good.”

Fernando’s face crumbled.

“Stop it,” he choked out, voice thick with emotion and just… pent-up sadness and embarrassed laughter and begrudged gratitude.

“What?” Stevie laughed to lighten up the atmosphere. “You do.”

Fernando shook his head and started walking again, leaving Stevie behind him.

The Scouser ran after him, “Hey, wait up! I accompany you all the way to your dorm and this is what I get?”

Fernando rolled his eyes and stopped in his tracks, waiting for Stevie to catch up.

Stevie pleaded. “Would you smile, please?”

Fernando faked a big, shit-eating grin.

Stevie sighed. “Fine, I’ll take that.”

They started walking again. Fernando almost tripped over his own feet when he felt Stevie take his hand. He stared down at their linked fingers, and then up at the Scouser. Stevie didn’t say anything. He just kept on walking, as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. But when Fernando tried to tug his hand free, Stevie tightened his grip, not letting him get away.

This time, Fernando smiled for real.

*

Fernando’s heart was still soaring when he skipped up the steps of the Anfield High Residence Hall. By the time he got to the top, though, it all came crashing down.

“Daniel,” he gasped in surprise, seeing the tall, dark, familiar figure propped up on the ledge, smoking a cigarette.

“I see you’ve been out with Stevie again,” Daniel said, not even bothering to greet Fernando.

“Yeah, why?” Fernando asked. He didn’t know why, but anxiety started to build up in his chest. “We just played football in the park.”

Dan glowered. “And held hands all the way home?”

Fernando’s jaw dropped. “No!”

“I saw you.”

“Well, yes!” Fernando stammered. This was crazy. “But it’s not what it looks like.”

Dan took a long drag from his cigarette to calm him down, but it was futile. He barked out a sardonic laugh, smoke puffing out the corners of his mouth. “Enlighten me, why don’t you?”

Fernando shook his head in disbelief. “We were talking about you, okay? And I just mentioned that I wished we held hands more often.” Daniel recoiled, and Fernando’s disdain flared. He continued bitterly, “It’s stupid, I know. But Stevie just held my hand to make me feel better. That’s all.”

Dan scoffed. “Oh, he wants to be my replacement now?”

Fernando wanted to snap back: “That wouldn’t be so difficult since you’ve been shitty so far.” But, he bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself.

Dan took one last puff of his cigarette then threw the butt into the bushes. “Are you seeing him?”

Fernando answered clearly. “No.”

“So, this is all just some complicated ploy to make me jealous? Is that it? Is that why you’ve been ignoring me lately?”

“No, I’ve been ignoring you because you stood me up – ”

“Jesus Christ, I knew it,” Daniel said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. And Fernando felt insulted at the way the Dane was acting like this was all just a big inconvenience to him. But, he just took a deep breath to calm down and he clung on to what Stevie told him.

Fernando asked the question that had been bothering him since... since there was a Daniel in his life. This wasn’t just about one date anymore. This was about the one issue they kept fighting over.

And for all the months he agonised over it, he ended up asking it very simply.

“Why do you keep choosing Finns over me?”

He didn’t even ask the prior question, the safer question – “Can you finally choose between Finns and me?” No, he assumed that Daniel had already chosen, and he hadn’t chosen him.

And Daniel didn’t contest it either. He just fished out his pack of cigarettes, pulled out a new stick and lit it up. He smoked faster than usual, and that was the only sign that he was getting just as stressed as Fernando was.

Finally, Dan asked in return, “Why are you so competitive?” His tone was sharp with an accusatory edge.

Fernando let his eyes fall closed slowly. He struggled to retain some sense of calm, of restraint... and failed.

Fernando’s eyes widened, “ _Competitive?_ You think this is about me wanting to _compete_ with Finns? For you?” He tried to remain composed, but he was getting more and more agitated by the second. “This isn’t a pick-up game in the park, Daniel. This is a relationship. Why do I have to settle for anything less than number one with you?”

Daniel asked back, “And when did you become like this?” He pushed off the ledge to approach Fernando. “Don’t you remember what it was like last year? You knew I was going to be bad for you. You knew I wasn’t going to settle down with you. So you were just as indifferent and difficult and irreverent and you had me eating out of the palm of your hand, just like that. Where is that Fernando? What happened?”

Fernando was shaking. In anger, in disbelief… and in guilt. He gritted his teeth together. “You know what? You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Dan blinked in surprise – at Fernando’s agreement and at his sudden change in tone.

“I guess I’m not the same person you fell in love with anymore,” Fernando said. “And that… makes it pointless for us to keep on seeing each other.”

Dan sighed. He glanced at the cigarette in his hand and suddenly felt nauseous at the idea of smoking. “Maybe we just need a break. Some time to think, you know?”

“You mean, some time apart.”  
Dan shrugged lifelessly. In his head, that meant no. But he didn’t know what the right answer was anymore.

Fernando nodded slowly. “Right. Okay.”

“Fernando, I don’t want to break up with you – ”

But the Spaniard held up his hand. “I know.” He added to himself, “But maybe I need to break up with you.”

The dormitory building behind them was coming alive. Most of the students were arriving from their dinners or movies or dates, and the sounds of TV shows and pop music and chatter were pouring out the windows and doors. It was surreal how on this ordinary day, Fernando’s world was unravelling.

“I should probably go in,” Fernando said. He nodded at Daniel, “Thanks for dropping by.”

Dan stood there, rooted on the spot, as Fernando walked around him and entered his dormitory. He wondered if he should stop him, clarify what his agenda was. He didn’t come here tonight for a break-up. A confrontation, yes. An intervention, maybe. But he didn’t imagine he’d be going home single and alone.

But Daniel didn’t have any more energy in him. The fight sapped it all out. And right now, this was the easiest option, so it seemed like the right one.

And even though Fernando had long gone by then, Daniel murmured after him, “Good night, Fernando.” His voice sounded far and removed to his own ears.

*

The last thing Fernando needed to see when he arrived at his dorm room was Harry and Finns making out in bed.

One, because he despised Finns right now.

But two, because he wanted to do was to curl up in bed and wake up last September and start all over again.

“Fucking hell, Harry, can you at least warn me next time you plan to have him over?!” Fernando yelled when he chanced upon them.

“I told you last night!” Harry shouted back. “What the fuck is your problem?”

But Fernando was already stalking out, slamming the door as loudly as he can. He didn’t have anywhere to go. The common room was filled with students making the most out of the summer night.

He went around in circles through the dorm looking for a place to stay. With every step he took, his limbs grew heavier. His shoulders slumped, and his temples ached, making his vision blur and darken. Finally, he found an empty balcony on the eighth floor. He went out and locked the door behind him.

He slumped to the ground and cradled his head in his hands. He was torn between trying to forget this day and going through it again and again to find out where he went wrong.

He needed to talk this through with someone. But Stevie had already made it clear earlier what his thoughts were on the situation. Harry was… unavailable. And Xabi, Fernando wasn’t sure he’d understand.

Finally, Fernando just dialled the number of the one person he knew he could rely on.

“Hello?”

“Oh, Fernando, you sound terrible!”

Fernando sighed. He didn’t notice his nose was clogged and his throat was tight. “I’m okay, ma. I think I’m just coming down with a cold.”

“Honey, I told you to take your Vitamin C.”

“I will.”

“Is there still a pharmacy open at this time?”

“I’m sure I still have some in my room.”

“Good.”

"Anyway, I just called to tell you that I’ve talked to Rafa.” Fernando took a deep breath, “And he said I could go back to Spain.”

His mother practically shrieked on the other end of the line. “Oh, that’s wonderful! I’ll buy your tickets as soon as we hang up. When can you fly out?”

Fernando chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully. Then, he answered with finality, “As soon as possible, ma.”


	13. The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out

It’s been five days since Daniel’s talked to Fernando. Five miserable days.

He was fine when he got home that night they broke up. He had dinner with the family, snuck a beer into his room, even watched porn before he fell asleep. By the time he woke up, though, he was a wreck. He had to feign a fever for the first day, so his mother would just bring him his meals in his room. It wasn’t that hard to pretend though – Daniel was listless, pale and cranky.

Daniel spent his days watching TV and listening to music. He unearthed a pile of his old books and went through those too. Jungle Book, Fever Pitch, Fight Club, even a battered copy of the Lord of the Rings. He kept the last one in the box – he knew that was Fernando’s favourite book, and right now, he wasn’t in the mood to read it.

Finns called to check up on him, but he didn’t feel like talking. And even during training, he jogged with his head down and didn’t talk to anyone. He made sure to stay on the other side of the locker room from Fernando, and only went to shower when he was sure Fernando was done. Fernando avoided him at all costs as well.

The boys must have noticed something was wrong because the group was unnaturally quiet. And they must have realised this was a real fight – if it were any other argument, they would have pushed Fernando and Daniel together already and teased them to no end until they made up.

So, Xabi, Stevie and Pepe surrounded Fernando protectively at all times, while Daniel hung out by himself. Finns kept his distance – maybe out of respect, and also maybe out of the knowledge that Daniel always needed his time to stew alone. Which was why Daniel stayed off Facebook and Twitter and didn’t check his emails either. Right now, he wanted to be by himself, not drowning in Ryan Babel’s tweets about how he got locked out of the house. Again.

On the fifth day, Daniel decided he was going crazy. And that he wanted Fernando back.

He was lonely and he was devastated. His heart ached in a way he didn’t think was possible. He realised that when they said your heart was broken, dammit, it really did feel like a broken heart.

He didn’t have a ready pronouncement of love for Fernando. He didn’t have an apology either. But he figured Fernando was always the talker between the both of them, so maybe he would let the Spaniard take the lead.

Which was why it was 8 in the morning and the second visiting hours started, Daniel was climbing the stairs two steps at a time until he was standing right outside Fernando’s dorm room.

Dan took a deep breath and then knocked.

It was Harry who answered, still in his boxers and obviously roused from bed.

“Hey, Harry.” Dan fidgeted nervously, “I was wondering if I could talk to Fernando?”

Harry’s movements were sluggish, all sluggish. He yawned slowly and blinked slowly and scratched at the stubble on his neck slowly. “He’s not here.”

“Where is he? We don’t have training today.”

Harry studied Daniel for a long time, making the younger boy feel self-conscious.

“Well?”

“Are you serious?” Harry asked, the sleep slowly ebbing away in his expression.

Dan was getting impatient. “What do you mean, am I serious? He didn’t tell you Rafa gave us a day-off today?” He asked testily.

Harry snapped back. “No, you idiot. I mean, are you seriously asking me where he is?” He barked a short, disbelieving laugh. “Fernando’s left for Spain already.”

Dan stopped, and it took him a full moment to even _hear_ what Harry just said. The Australian just stared at him expectantly.

When Daniel didn’t respond, Harry even tried to jog his memory sarcastically. “Fernando? Tall? Freckled? Blonde? He went back to Spain for the summer?”

It was like all the air was knocked out of Daniel’s lungs and he couldn’t make a sound.

“Spain?” He finally managed to rasp out.

And that was when the Australian’s face changed completely.

“Wait. You must have known, right?” Harry asked, almost fearing Daniel’s answer.

“No. I… We haven’t been… No.” Dan murmured. The full weight of what Harry just shared finally hit him on the chest and knocked him back.

“Holy… fuck.” Harry breathed. He opened the door and hurriedly welcomed Daniel, “Come on in. Sit down. Jesus Christ, lad, you look like you’re going to faint.”

Dan felt cold, so cold. His fingertips were numb.

“He’s left for the airport? What time is his flight?”

In his head, Daniel was already replaying all the movie scenes where the lead actor chased down the love of his life. He could do that. They would meet by the gates and Daniel would apologise and persuade him to stay. The people around them would grumble about their flight getting delayed, but once they heard of Daniel’s romantic gesture, they would applaud in support until the scene faded to black and the credits started to roll.

Harry hesitated. “Dan, he left last night. He’s already in Spain by now.”

But Dan was unrelenting. “No, that’s impossible. I was still calling him this morning and his phone was ringing.”

“He left his phone.”

“What?”

Harry went to Fernando’s bedside table and retrieved the mobile for the Dane.

Dan stared at the phone in his hands. His messages were still unopened.

“He said he was just getting a temporary number in Spain. It was cheaper that way than to get roaming services from England,” Harry explained.

“Fuck!” Dan cursed, throwing the phone on the bed. It bounced on the pillows, before landing with a thud on the carpeted floor. Harry flinched but he didn’t move to pick it up. He just watched Daniel cautiously.

“I thought you knew.” Harry spoke softly. “I’m sorry.”

Dan’s head was pounding, his eyes felt hot. But it was like he was running on adrenaline, on pure survival instinct. He was being eerily sensible, rational and level-headed.

“You must know his home number in Madrid, at least,” he pointed out.

“No. And even if I did, I wouldn’t be in a position to give it to you,” Harry said.

“I won’t tell Fernando I got it from you.”

Harry sighed. “I’m sorry, Danny.”

“It won’t make a difference if you give me his number. I can always send him a message on Facebook.”

“Then message me him on Facebook. Sorry, Daniel.”

Daniel wasn’t to be deterred. “Until when is he staying in Spain?” He was calm. So calm.

Harry shrugged, “He told me his mom bought him a one-way ticket.”

That was the first stab at Dan’s heart and he felt his armour weaken a little.

“But surely he’s not staying there past summer. I mean, he still has a football scholarship here.”

“I guess so. He should be back in time for enrolment,” Harry said.

Enrollment. Almost three weeks away.

Harry was sighing, “Look, everything I know is from what Fernando told me before he left. It may still have changed, so don’t take my answers as the final word.” He urged, “You should talk to him.”

“He won’t fucking talk to me!” Dan pointed out angrily, finally letting his temper break loose.

Harry didn’t know if he should approach Dan to comfort him, or if he should keep his distance in case the defender was dangerous.

“I’m sorry,” he just ended up mumbling. He didn’t know why he kept apologising. This wasn’t his fault. And the difficult thing was, it didn’t seem like anybody’s fault.

Harry tried again, “When I hear from Fernando, I’ll tell you, alright?”

Daniel had a faraway look in his eyes. He stared outside the window overlooking the lawns of the school where the football team often hung out during lunch time. He remembered they almost had their first kiss there, right underneath one of the trees. But Peter Crouch had arrived a few minutes too early and interrupted them.

Crouch barely even showed up at team events anymore. He drifted away after he started getting benched by Rafa.

That was how long it’s been. How long it’s been since… happier times.

“Daniel?” Harry asked cautiously.

Daniel snapped out of his daze. “What?” He yelled.

Harry shuffled awkwardly. “Did you need anything else?”

Daniel looked around. The clock read 8:30. It was still so early. He almost forgot he had just barged in on the Australian sleeping. But right now, Daniel was in a daze. He didn’t even remember what day it was, and was he headed to training after this?

“No, no. That’s all,” Dan said hollowly.

Harry nodded and waited patiently until Dan slowly walked out of his room.

*

Daniel didn’t expect to bump into Carra as he made his way out of the school.

“Hey, lad? What are you doing up so early?” The Scouser asked, thumping him on the back.

Dan still wasn’t quite himself, and he found himself answering too honestly: “I just dropped by the dorms. I was hoping to talk to Fernando.”

Carra got a funny look in his face. “Nando? Hasn’t he left for Spain already or something?”

Dan paused. “How do you know?”

“Why wouldn’t I know?” Carra shrugged. “He was telling me and Stevie about it after Rafa excused him from summer training.”

“How far back was this?”

“Just a few days ago,” Carra said. He did a double-take. “Why, didn’t he tell you?”

Dan felt the blood rushing to his face. No way was he telling Carra some bleeding-heart story about him and Fernando.

“Of course I knew,” Dan scoffed. “I just thought Fernando wasn’t able to tell a lot of people since his trip was so… sudden.”

 _Sudden._ That was the word.

Carra just laughed. “Nah. I think everyone pretty much knows.”

“Great,” Dan forced a laugh too, but it wilted halfway. “That’s really great.”

*

Daniel was like a crazed man the way he kept asking everyone about Fernando. He was stubbornly trying to piece together the past few days. How was it possible that everyone knew Fernando was leaving? How was it possible that he didn’t know? Did he miss something? Did Fernando keep it from him intentionally?

“Hey, did you know Fernando left for Spain yesterday?” Dan asked Dirk casually the next day during training.

Dirk was lacing up his boots, “Didn’t he leave the day before that?”

Dan made a noncommittal sound, pretending to be busy looking for tape in his duffel bag.

Dirk continued, “Yeah, I even remember he took the 10:40 PM flight. Didn’t he?”

Dan bit back a scowl. No, he didn’t know, thank you very much. But he just raised an eyebrow. “How do you even know shit like those?”

The Dutchman laughed, waving around his shin guard, “I remember strange details of the most random things. I know Pepe’s flight too. He took the 3:15 PM trip the other day.”

Dan shrugged. The only reason he knew Pepe was leaving for Spain was because the goalkeeper had smacked him over the head with his glove and yelled, “Get your act together, Agger! I’m going for a vacation for a few weeks, so no one’s going to cover your ass!”

Was he really that out of it the past few days? What if Fernando had been trying to tell him, but Daniel just didn’t notice?

“Hey, Dirk, have you seen Stevie?”

“Yeah, he was here early. I think he went to the gym to do some fitness work,” Dirk said.

When Daniel got to the gym, a few of his teammates were already there. He spotted Stevie on the treadmill and approached him.

“Hey,” he greeted curtly.

Stevie glanced at him, nodded, then stared straight ahead, focusing on running. Needless to say they weren’t fans of each other. Unfortunately, Daniel needed Stevie right now so he had to swallow his pride.

The defender climbed on to the treadmill beside Stevie’s and switched it on. The machine whirred into action, and Daniel eased into a slow jog.

“Fernando left a couple of days ago.”

Stevie shrugged. “Yeah. So?”

Dan gritted his teeth. He didn’t like having to say it: “So, I didn’t know.”

It was difficult for Daniel to run and at the same time, keep turning to the side to look at Stevie for his reaction. So he just listened hard for some kind of misstep or a fumble, but Stevie’s trainers just pounded on the treadmill in an easy, steady rhythm. The Scouser didn’t look surprised in the slightest.

“I had a feeling he wouldn’t tell you,” Stevie said evenly.

Dan shook his head in disbelief. “Why would he do that?”

Stevie snorted. “Why do you think? He was hurting, Agger. I’m sure the last thing he wanted to do was call you up for a little chit-chat.”

Dan was about to reply, but Stevie cut in, “And it’s not like Fernando needed to inform you. You weren’t his boyfriend anymore.” He added underneath his breath, “I’m not even sure you ever were.”

“Okay, fine, I get it. Technically speaking, he didn’t need to tell me. But come on, couldn’t he tell me out of common decency?”

“Decency? That’s rich, coming from you.”

Daniel felt the anger bubbling in his chest. He was having a horrid day as it was, and here he was approaching Stevie civilly and sensibly. He didn’t need to take this shit from him.

“Well, why couldn’t _you_ tell me? You knew Fernando was leaving. You knew he wasn’t planning on telling me. You didn’t even think that maybe you’d want to help me out, give me a heads-up?” Dan asked sarcastically.

Stevie laughed so loud, a few of the other boys looked up to see what the fuss was about.

“Why would I do that?” Stevie asked. “I told Fernando to break up with you.”

Dan tripped on his feet. He hit the off button with a little too much force, and the treadmill came to an abrupt stop. Dan turned to Stevie and demanded loudly, “What did you say?”

Stevie didn’t stop jogging. He didn’t even glance at Daniel. “You heard me.”

“Why the fuck would you do that?” Dan yelled. He didn’t intend for it to be as loud as it came out, but he had kept his calm for so long – it was bound to crack once and for all.

Stevie jumped off his treadmill and rounded up on Daniel. “Don’t you raise your tone with me,” he warned.

Dan gritted his teeth. He hated how Stevie acted like he was the figure of authority for everything. He was _just_ his captain.

“I knew it,” Dan accused, “I saw the two of you.” The flashback was clear in Daniel’s mind. Stevie walking Fernando home – again. Stevie holding Fernando’s hand. They looked so disgustingly _content_ with each other.

It made Daniel so angry. He gave Stevie a good, solid shove. 

Stevie stumbled a few steps, but he didn’t raise a finger. He just laughed dryly. “You saw what?” He challenged. He wasn’t going to back down from this fight – god knows it was a long time coming. But he wasn’t going to get caught throwing the first punch. Rafa might be expecting Daniel to get into trouble, but he was captain. Captains don’t get caught in fisticuffs with troubled, little boys.

It was easy, too easy to reel Daniel in. His face flushed red, and he shoved Stevie again, much more forcefully this time. A few of the other lads in the squad just started to notice, but they didn’t dare intervene. 

“Fuck you. You’ve liked Fernando all this time, haven’t you? Fuck you very much.” Dan hissed, “Walking him home? Holding his hand? Giving him advice as a _friend_ that we should break up? Spare me your cheap, underhanded tricks.”

“I didn’t steal Fernando from you. You lost him all on your own.”

“You son of a bitch.” Dan snarled. He lunged at Stevie, and the Scouser did his best to back off, but Dan got fistfuls of his shirt and yanked him forward roughly.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” a body stepped in between them, forcefully pulling Daniel’s hands off of Stevie’s kit. It was Carra, and he began guiding Daniel to take a few steps back, using his body as a shield between the two arguing players.

If there was one person who knew how to get into Daniel’s head, even when he was angry, it was his centre back partner. “Get it together, Agger,” Carra said.

“Does Xabi know you’ve been seeing Fernando behind his back?” Dan taunted loudly. He knew the team was starting to come into the gym by now.

The colour drained from Stevie’s face and he got even more furious.

“I am not seeing Fernando.”

“Let’s drop this, lads.” Carra talked above the both of them.

“No, you better talk to Captain Fantastic here,” Dan stubbornly refused, pushing against Carra to get to Stevie.

“Come on now, don’t do anything that will get you suspended from the team,” Carra said sternly, taking Daniel by the shoulders and firmly holding him in place.

Daniel growled. He forgot he could get suspended for any unsportsmanlike behaviour.

But getting into a shoving match with the captain was surely going to reach the coaches anyway, and Stevie already had a handful of witnesses who would gladly stand by him.

He might as well make the most out of it.

“Fine,” Daniel said, holding up his hands in surrender. Carra eyed him cautiously before hesitantly letting go of his shoulders.

“Good, now walk away,” Carra said.

In a flash, Daniel pushed aside his unguarded vice captain and leapt at Stevie. With his left hand, he grabbed him by the collar of his jersey. Then, he pulled back his right arm and with all his energy, slammed his fist into the side of Stevie’s face. He heard his knuckles cracking and pain immediately shot up his hand – but holy fuck, that felt good.

Stevie fell to the ground and everyone ran up to them. Carra and Xabi were at Stevie’s side, helping him up, and he thought he saw Stevie spit just a small amount of blood on the floor. Someone was pulling Daniel back and throwing him against the lockers. It was Masch, pinning him back with an elbow on his chest, and Finns was right beside him shouting but Dan couldn’t understand.

All around them was pandemonium. But to Daniel, it was like someone had turned off the sound and everyone was scrambling around in silence. In his head, he replayed the comical way Stevie’s face scrunched up the moment Daniel’s fist made contact with his cheek. He laughed hollowly in his chest.

_Man, that was worth it._

*

Xabi was anxious when he entered the clinic. He’d never had to visit Stevie in a clinic before.

Most of the time, when Stevie got injured – when Stevie _allowed_ himself to _admit_ that he was injured – it would just be a muscle strain. Those were treated easily by the physios in the locker room, before they sent you home to rest.

Seeing Stevie laying down on the clinic bed was startling. It made Xabi break out into a cold sweat. Maybe this was why some people were afraid of hospitals. You didn’t have to be the one confined. It was frightening enough to see your loved one in such a depressing environment.

“Hey,” Xabi greeted softly.

Stevie glanced at him and smiled, “Hey.”

“How are you doing?”

“Great,” Stevie said, then paused. “Why are you whispering?”

Xabi laughed sheepishly. It was amazing how Stevie got him to feel at ease so quickly. “It feels like we should be whispering, I don’t know.” He took a seat next to Stevie’s bed and propped his chin up on his elbow. “How’s the jaw?”

“Please,” Stevie scoffed, but Xabi noticed that he couldn’t use his full range of expressions as freely. “Agger didn’t even get a scratch on me.”

“Uh-huh,” Xabi said. He reached out and gingerly ran his hands along Stevie’s jaw, just a few centimetres from where a bruise was starting to form. Stevie winced.

“This will hurt tomorrow,” Xabi said.

“I’ll be fine.”

Xabi took Stevie’s hand and pressed a kiss on the back. The Scouser smiled.

“Has the nurse discharged you yet?”

“Yeah, I’m just waiting for my mum to pick me up. She said she was almost done with her meeting.”

Xabi nodded and stood up. “How about you tell your mum I’ll treat you out for ice cream instead, then I’ll bring you home?”

Stevie raised an eyebrow.

“Come on, I’ll have you back early.” Xabi smiled sweetly, “Besides, ice cream will be good for you. It numbs the sore part of your mouth… or something. I’m not exactly sure of the medical logic behind that.”

Stevie laughed, then immediately clutched his swollen cheek. “Ow.”

“See?” Xabi tugged gently at Stevie’s hand. “Free ice cream beats waiting here in the clinic by yourself.”

Stevie pushed himself up to a sitting position. “Fine, fine. I’ll tell my mum.”

Xabi whooped, and the Scouser shook his head. “You’re lucky my mum likes you.”

*

“I got punched in the face, Xabi. One punch. I’m not an invalid,” Stevie said. Xabi insisted on carrying both their duffel bags on each of his shoulders. And when their orders arrived, Xabi refused to let Stevie bring the tray of ice cream and soda too. Now, it was taking Xabi five minutes just to get to their booth a few yards away because he had to take delicate, baby steps to avoid dropping anything.

Stevie watched him in amusement. “Can I help you now?”

Xabi shook his head just the slightest, wary of any sudden movement. “No. You’re supposed to rest. Just sit there.”

“Thanks for treating me.”

“No problem.” Xabi said, placing their bowls heaping with ice cream on the table. “It’s not every day we get to binge anyway.”

“Just don’t tell the coaches about this,” Stevie warned. “When I told Sammy I was going out for a snack, I think he was expecting a serving of non-fat plain yogurt.”

Xabi dug his spoon into his mint chocolate ice cream, “So.”

“So?”

He asked as nonchalantly as possible, “What was that fight all about?”

Stevie opened his mouth to say something, then hesitated. He barked out a short laugh instead. “I don’t think anyone’s really that surprised that it finally happened. We never really liked each other.”

Xabi didn’t look entirely convinced. “Even before” – he coughed – “Fernando?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Xabi nodded slowly and focused on his ice cream. He carefully carved off the sprinkles and lined them along the side of his bowl.

“Hey,” Stevie said, tapping the Basque’s hand to get his attention. “I’m not seeing Fernando.”

“I know.” Xabi said meekly.

“I just told him that he should break up with Daniel once and for all – we all think that way. Daniel’s just taking it against me because he feels like I’ve been trying to steal Nando from him all this time.”

“I know,” Xabi said again, sighing.

They were quiet for a time. Xabi stared thoughtfully into the distance while Stevie just shovelled his ice cream into his mouth like he was dying of famine. Suddenly, he paused as the realisation hit him –

“Wait. Does it make you uncomfortable when I hang out with Nando? Do you want me to stay away from him or something?”

Xabi’s protests were unnaturally high-pitched. “I’m not jealous!”

Stevie raised an eyebrow.

“I believe you when you say you’re not attracted to him. I trust you!” Xabi shrugged, “Sometimes I just get a little… insecure.”

The Scouser smiled and he held Xabi’s hand tightly. “Baby, you know I’d get into a fight for you any day of the week.”

Xabi blushed. “You don’t have to go _that_ far. I don’t want you getting suspended from the team.”

They both continued eating, and Xabi was just halfway through his ice cream when Stevie completely polished off his banana split.

“Thanks for taking me out,” Stevie said, rubbing his tummy contentedly.

Xabi reached out and wiped the chocolate syrup that was smeared all over Stevie’s lips. “No problem. I like that it’s my turn to take care of you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re always walking me to the bus stop, or checking up on where I am…”

“Sorry.”

“No, I like it! I just think that maybe it’s my turn, you know?” Xabi took Stevie’s hands, still cold from clutching the ice cream bowl, and he said sincerely, “I want to take care of you. Not just now, but all the time.”

“What are you saying?” Stevie asked nervously.

“I’m saying, will you let me be your boyfriend again?”

Stevie was a little breathless. “Excuse me?”

“I want us to be together again. That is, if you’ll let me?”

“What? I should be asking that question!”

But Xabi shook his head vehemently. “No, I broke us up before. I should be the one asking permission now.”

Stevie still looked shocked, and his silence made Xabi’s heart beat double-time. What if Stevie dumped him? What if he found out about Harry’s summer classes? What if he just wasn’t in love with Xabi anymore?

“Yes.”

“Yes?” Xabi asked incredulously.

“Yeah,” Stevie said plainly. “Of course. Was there ever any chance I was going to say no?”

“I mean, you aren’t mad at me anymore for what happened before…?” Xabi trailed off.

Stevie just shrugged like he had no care in the world. “The past is the past, right?”

Xabi shifted his gaze for a fleeting moment. Okay, so he hadn’t exactly admitted to Stevie that he’d hung out with Harry over the summer. For classes. _Just for classes._ Where he had stared at the Australian longingly, more than once or twice.

But that was over now – that was clear to him and that was clear to Harry. There was nothing to worry about anymore.

Xabi nodded resolutely. “The past is the past. I just want to start over and do it right.”

Stevie smiled, taking Xabi’s hand and kissing it. “I like that idea.”

*

Fernando stubbornly kicked off the flimsy bedsheet he was using as a blanket. It stuck annoyingly to his sweaty legs. It was so hot and humid, it was unbearable. He’d gotten so used to the Liverpool weather that the temperature in Spain made his skin burn.

Fernando huffed tiredly and tried to find a comfortable position in bed. He ended up tossing and turning for minutes. He must have gotten a few inches taller over the year – he couldn’t fit in bed properly anymore. He propped up his pillows against the headboard and tried to sleep again. He wedged his eyes shut and willed for his body to wind down, but it was useless.

Finally, Fernando groaned in frustration and sat up. The room was dark, and the light of the streetlamp outside barely filtered in through his blinds. It was way past midnight and he should be getting sleep. He’d felt so listless ever since his flight the other night.

“Maybe this is jetlag,” Fernando muttered to himself, even though he knew Spain was hardly a world away. 

Who was he kidding? He’d been having trouble sleeping all this week, even when he was in Liverpool. Ever since – Fernando winced at the thought – ever since he broke up with Daniel.

“No.” Fernando scolded himself out loud. He wasn’t going down that road again.

Maybe a mug of warm milk would take his mind of these things.

Fernando didn’t bother putting on a shirt. He padded down to their kitchen in just his boxers and his old slippers. As he was waiting for his milk to heat in the microwave, his eyes drifted to the clock. It was only a little past midnight in England. Most of his friends would still be up.

If he texted or called them now, they would surely be able to answer.

Fernando instinctively looked for his phone – he usually carried it around wherever he went, even to the loo – but he couldn’t find it. Then, he remembered that he left it in Liverpool. Or, more accurately, he threw it to one side of the room in the throes of anger and ordered Harry never to let him see, hear or touch it ever again, not until he came back from Spain. Harry, of course, just stared at him funnily but humoured him since he was heartbroken and sensitive at that time.

His mother lent him one of the family’s old, clunky mobile phones, but it didn’t have any credits yet. More importantly, it didn’t have any of Fernando’s contacts in the phonebook.

Fernando sighed as he took out his mug from the microwave, inhaling the comforting aroma of the milk. He sat down on the kitchen table and pondered.

Right before he left, he remembered stopping by his desk to take a Post-It and write down several numbers of people in Liverpool in case of emergencies. He wrote down three numbers: Stevie’s, Harry’s and Rafa’s.

Of course, there was a fourth number, and that was Daniel’s. He knew that by heart. And that meant it was pointless that he left his mobile in England, but Fernando lived for the drama anyway. He snickered as he recalled Harry calling him a brat, time and time again.

The pangs of nostalgia hit him hard, and he’d only been in Spain for a day. Fernando practically ran up to his room, taking care not to spill his drink as he clambered up the stairs.

He dug out the mobile his mother gave him from under the magazines on his desk. But he stopped just as his fingers hit the keypad, he lost his nerve.

What, you’re going to call Daniel? His inner voice taunted. What are you even going to say?

And he realised, he was missing him because he was in Spain feeling lonely and restless in the middle of the night. But Daniel – the last he heard from Daniel was goodbye. And who knew what he was up to right now. It was the height of summer in Liverpool where the rest of the team was. He wouldn’t be surprised if the boys were out drinking or watching a concert or camping out in Carra’s living room.

Fernando didn’t want to be the one who needed Daniel more than Daniel needed him. Not again.

He let the phone fall back on the desk. It was a good thing it was an old, sturdy mobile. It seemed to be functional even after it dropped heavily against the wood.

Sighing heavily, Fernando crawled back into bed. At least the breeze had picked up now, so it was just a tiny bit cooler. He grabbed his iPod from his nightstand and put on his earphones. He listened to slow, sad songs until he was lulled into uncomfortable sleep.

*

Sami was drying off the last of the glasses by the bar when someone plopped down onto the barstool in front of him.

He looked up distractedly and was taken aback to see a familiar face.

“What brings you here, Daniel?” He asked. The look on the younger boy was just one of pure worry and confusion.

Dan took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak. Then stopped, then hesitated. Then started again.

“I just needed the company.”

Sami nodded slowly. It wasn’t often that Daniel came to him – very rarely, in fact. That’s what Finns was for.

The last time Dan came to Sami, he was in a bit of a bind with Fernando. But that seemed so long ago. Sami had graduated from Anfield High already. It’s only been a couple of months, but sometimes, just a few months out were enough. It was liberating to be out of high school completely. Times like these, though, when it looked like something big was up, he kind of missed it.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Sami asked.

“Just some water, please,” Dan said. “Are you enjoying the job so far?”

Sami shrugged, pouring Dan his drink. “It’s been easy so far.” He slid the glass to the Dane, “Aren’t you supposed to be at training or something?”

Dan hung his head. “I… got suspended.”

Sami almost dropped the glass he was about to dry. “What?!” He yelled. It was a good thing the pub was empty this morning.

“Just for a week,” Dan qualified, but his cheeks were bright red. Honestly, he couldn’t care less that he was suspended for a week. But Sami was making him feel embarrassed. Almost how he felt when he told his parents about his suspension.

“Pray tell me, what happened?” Sami asked, eyes wide.

“I got into a fight.”

Sami raised his eyebrows and Dan wanted to die inside.

“I got into a fight with Stevie and I hit him.”

“Oh, Daniel.” Sami shook his head in remorse.

“I’m sorry, okay.” Dan said, looking away. “Things just got out of control.”

“I have a feeling your fight with Stevie is just one part of the story.”

Dan laughed dryly. “Yeah.”

Sami leaned on the counter and nodded, “Well, come on, tell me.”

“Fernando and I broke up,” Dan deadpanned, but his face was still contorted as he tried to wrestle with his own thoughts. And when Sami didn’t react, Dan added, “It felt real this time. He broke up with me.”

Sami let out such a long exhale, it seemed like he was a balloon deflating. “I’m sorry about that.”

Daniel appreciated the fact that Sami didn’t speak much, didn’t try to explain things for him. He just stood there and waited patiently for him to continue talking, quietly listening. It allowed Dan to just… tell the story, his way. And admit things to Sami and to himself, finally.

“It was just a lot of things coming together, you know?” Dan said. “Things that I didn’t know he wanted. Things that I didn’t know I was doing.”

“It happens to everyone.”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen to us,” Dan said sullenly. “It was supposed to work out this time around.”

“Maybe the third time’s the charm?” Sami joked quietly. “You never know. It’s a still long summer ahead.”

Dan chewed on his lip. He didn’t like having to say this again – “Fernando left for Spain.”

Sami’s jaw dropped, “But just for the vacation?”

Dan shook and nodded his head. “I don’t know. Harry told me he’ll be back for enrolment, but it still doesn’t change the fact that he bought a one-way ticket.”

“Wait, Harry told you?”

Dan took a long drink. He was feeling parched all of a sudden. “Yeah. Because Fernando didn’t tell me he was going to leave.”

Sami couldn’t even say anything. He just stared at Daniel with a look of disbelief.

“We haven’t talked since the break-up and when I finally decided to go and see him, I find out, I’m a day too late.”

“Daniel…”

“I just feel so… stupid.” Dan sighed in frustration. “Why wouldn’t he tell me he was leaving?!” He demanded, his voice raising dangerously. “I asked everyone in the team and they all knew he was planning to go back to Spain. Why would they keep that from me? Why couldn’t Fernando at least tell me?”

Sami proceeded with caution. “Daniel, don’t you think you’re being preoccupied with the wrong thing right now?”

“I don’t understand,” Dan whined petulantly.

“I mean, I think the more important question is: why did he even leave to begin with?”

Dan dropped his elbows on the bar and covered his face with his palms. He felt Sami reach out and ruffle his hair. It was comforting.

“The time and the space might be good for you,” Sami offered.

Dan groaned. Fuck time and space. Right now he just wanted Fernando to come back home.


	14. You shine like gold in the air of summer

**Sender:** daniel.agger@anfieldhigh.co.uk  
 **Recipients:** fernando.torres@anfieldhigh.co.uk

~~Dear Fernando~~

~~Hello, Fernando~~

~~Hi, Nando!~~

_**This draft has been discarded.** _

*

“What do you think of these?” Harry asked, holding up a dark blue shirt which looked exactly like the three other dark blue shirts he’d fitted in the other store.

Finns rubbed his temples. “It’s nice,” he said, like he’d said every time Harry consulted him.

“Come on, lighten up a little,” Harry said, putting the shirt back on the rack.

“I thought that when I got myself a boyfriend, I saved myself from the torture that is shopping,” Finns grumbled.

Harry laughed, “It’s not that bad. You should look for clothes too so you don’t get bored.”

“I have enough clothes, thank you very much.”

“We’re moving to another continent in a few weeks!” Harry exclaimed, “We need to be prepared!”

“I am prepared! I have most of my things packed up,” Finns said. “I don’t need a new set of clothes to stuff into another bag.”

Harry shook his head in disbelief. They rounded another rack, where the Australian spotted a red sweatshirt. He took a closer look at it, studied the garment, flipped it back and forth, and then finally put it into the heaping basket of clothes he was carrying.

“More?” Finns whined.

“Do you want an ugly boyfriend?”

Finns snickered. “I’d be fine if you didn’t have clothes at all.”

Harry grinned. “Why thank you.” He leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to Finns’ cheek when he was sure no one was looking.

“Now come on, I’m going to go and fit.”

“Go ahead, I’ll look for a couch to sit on,” Finns said, taking Harry’s shopping bags for him.

“Where?”

Finns shrugged as he scanned the store. He could barely see anything past the racks and racks of clothes. “I’m sure it’s just here somewhere. It can’t be that hard to find, since all the boyfriends and brothers and fathers and sons are sitting there, wasting away their lives as they wait for the girls to finish fitting.”

Harry threw him a dirty look.

“You’re being such a grump, Stephen Finnan.” He pushed the Irishman along, “Now come on, why don’t you keep me company instead in the fitting room?”

“Can’t I just wait for you in McDonald’s?” Finns said with a big, sickly sweet grin.

“No.”

“Harry, I don’t think they’ll even let us…”

“Oh, shush.”

“Excuse me, sir.”

True enough, a store attendant was already approaching them, looking frazzled. She must have been around their age, but her face was pale and her forehead was wrinkled deeply. “We only allow one person per fitting room,” she said.

“I told you,” Finns muttered, turning away. But, Harry stopped him. He flashed a bashful yet brilliant smile at the store attendant.

“Sorry, we didn’t know.” Harry gave a perfectly measured chuckle, “My friend here was just looking for a place to sit. The couch outside was full, and I know there’s a seat inside your dressing rooms?”

The girl tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear, “Well, yes. But for security reasons, we only allow one person in each cubicle,” she repeated, but her tone was less stern.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll make sure Stephen here doesn’t get up to no good,” Harry winked.

The girl just stared at Harry, at a loss for words, her cheeks turning pink.

Harry pat the attendant on the small of her back, “Come on,” he read off her name tag, “Liz, just this once. Please?”

Liz laughed nervously, but nodded, “Okay. Just don’t tell the other customers.” She stepped back so Harry could pass, dragging Finns along with him. They went to the nearest vacant fitting room.

“Aah, finally,” Harry said, locking the door and switching on the lights in the cubicle. He took off his jacket and rummaged through his pile of clothes.

Finns sat down on the chair. He stared pointedly at his boyfriend, “You can charm your way through everything, can’t you?”

Harry scoffed, but he couldn’t completely stifle the grin breaking through his expression. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

Finns snickered too. It always flattered him when girls and boys fell over themselves because of Harry, since he knew he was the one who had him. _Him._ He was able to tie down the infamous Harry Kewell.

“It’s a good thing we’re going to the States together. I get to keep an eye out for you,” Finns teased.

Harry just made a face in response. He started undressing to fit his new clothes, while Finns made no secret of ogling him. He let his eyes rake over Harry’s the soft slope of his shoulders and the hard lines of his bare chest and stomach.

“How in the world do you stay in shape after you’ve quit football?” Finns asked incredulously.

“I jog,” Harry said, enjoying the attention. “And I have sex with you. You see, when I do this,” he rolled his hips forward obscenely, imitating how he thrusts into Finns, “It’s like I do crunches and it keeps this part toned,” Harry pointed at his torso.

Finns’ brain had melted at this point, so he just mindlessly reached out to touch Harry’s abdomen. It _was_ flat.

Harry leaned down to give Finns a short, but sexually-charged kiss. Finns could barely pull himself away.

“I think this is what the saleslady was worried about,” he murmured against Harry’s lips.

Harry laughed and straightened up so he could try his clothes. “How’s Daniel doing, by the way?”

“He’s still suspended, but he’ll be back with the team next week,” Finns explained. He handed Harry one of the shirts he pulled out from the rack. “It’s probably all for the best. I think all Dan wants to do right now is to mope in his room.”

Harry looked up from buttoning his shirt. “Shit. That bad, huh?”

Finns shrugged. “When something’s troubling Dan, he tends to shut off. I try to check up on him, but he doesn’t like talking about it.”

“Did he at least enjoy giving Stevie a black eye?”

Finns laughed. “Yeah, yeah. More than he should have.”

“You like this?” Harry asked. He spun around slowly so Finns could check out the plaid shirt he had on.

“It looks like what everyone’s wearing on TV right now?” Finns answered cluelessly.

“Okay. That’s a good thing, honey.” Harry said, patting his boyfriend on the head.

“Did you hear the latest news about Stevie though?” Finns said, handing Harry another top to try on.

“Nope, what’s up?”

Finns looked down at his shoes for a second. “He’s back together with Xabi. Officially.”

There was a moment’s pause as Harry pulled on another shirt, but when he emerged from the fabric, he answered casually, “That’s great for them. It’s been a while.”

“Really?”

Harry pushed his arms into the sleeves then checked his reflection in the mirror. “Uh-huh,” he said, “I’m happy for them.”

Finns nodded slowly. “I’m happy for them too.”

Harry shot the Irishman a knowing look. “It’s fine, Finns. Did you expect me to burst into tears?”

Finns blushed. “Of course not.”

Harry leaned down to kiss Finns again, hoping to reassure the boy. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured against Finns’ lips. “So stop worrying about it.”

Finns let out a shaky breath. His smile was still weak, but he was visibly more relaxed. He nodded up at Harry, “I believe you.”

*

 **Sender:** daniel.agger@anfieldhigh.co.uk  
 **Recipients:** fernando.torres@anfieldhigh.co.uk

Hey, Fernando,  
I don’t know if you heard, but Stevie and I got into a fight the other day. Well, technically, I fought with him since I threw the first (only) punch. I hope you’re not mad at me or anything, since I know Stevie is your

_**This draft has been discarded.** _

*

Xabi knew something was up the moment Mikel knocked on his bedroom door. His older brother never knocked, which has led to many awkward situations when Stevie stayed over.

“Come in,” Xabi called out, sitting up in bed. It was nearly 10 in the morning, but he had no plans of attending his AP Chemistry classes, so he had the entire day ahead of him.

Mikel shuffled in with a troubled look on his face. “Uh, someone’s here for you.”

Xabi rubbed his eyes sleepily, “So early?”

“He says it’s important.”

That sent Xabi’s heart beating double-time. He had a hunch, and the hunch was not good. Suddenly, he felt wide awake.

“Okay, are you sending him up?”

“Maybe it’s better if you meet him downstairs.”

“Right,” Xabi said, getting to his feet unsteadily. “I’ll be there in a second.”

Mikel nodded and left. Xabi went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face to clear his mind. Could it really be that Harry Kewell was here to see him? Why would he be here? What did he want? Xabi stared at himself in the mirror, lost in thought, as the water dripped down his jaw and neck.

 _Maybe it isn’t Harry_ , Xabi thought as he pressed his face against a towel. His instincts were telling him otherwise, though.

He hurriedly pulled on a shirt and some decent boxers then made his way downstairs. His palms were sweating.

Of course, it was Harry. The spiky brown hair was unmistakable, and so was the cadence in his voice as he chatted with Mikel.

Xabi cleared his throat and both boys looked up.

“Hey,” he greeted in a raspy tone that he couldn’t blame on his sleepiness.

Mikel stood up from the couch, “I should probably get back to preparing breakfast.”

Harry smiled through pursed lips, looking every bit as stressed as Xabi was feeling.

Once Mikel had gone out of the living room, Xabi dared to take a seat, although at the farthest end of the couch.

“I’m sorry for dropping by without calling first.” Harry stared intently at the coffee table, “I didn’t think you’d take my call.”

Xabi, on the other hand, kept his gaze on the lamp across the room, “What brings you here?”

There was a deep intake of breath. “I heard you and Stevie have gotten back together.”

Xabi’s chest tightened. Why was Harry bringing this up?

The Australian continued, “I’m happy for you.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“And, Finns and I have fixed our own problems.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah, I was hoping that since everything’s settled now,” Harry shrugged, “We could start to put the awkwardness behind us, and… you could start going back to class?”

The moment came to a screeching halt for Xabi. “What?” He didn’t know if he was disappointed or relieved that the conversation had taken a turn down the safer route.

“You’ve missed three consecutive classes already, and that’s the maximum you’re allowed for summer classes. If you miss one more class, I’ll have to make a significant deduction on your final grade.”

Xabi averted his gaze, his cheeks burning up in embarrassment. He hated being called to attention by his teachers – he was always the perfect student, the best student in class. And like it or not, Harry was still his teacher for the time being.

“You’ve missed a number of lectures too, Xabi.”

“I’ve been reading up at home, I’ve been following the syllabus.”

“That’s good. And I’m sure you’re capable of understanding the lessons on your own. But your absences will still mean lesser recitation and lesser class exercises.”

Harry smirked to himself, the usual smirk he had when he was up to no good. It made Xabi smile a little.

“Now, if you ask me, I’m fine with just giving you an A as early as now. You’re still my best student anyway, and your grades from all your quizzes and assignments are enough to give you that A. That’s definitely going to be easier for both of us.”

Xabi laughed a little. “But?”

“But, it’s going to be fishy since your absence has been noticeable. It’s not like we’re a very big class.” Harry shrugged, “I’m just worried your other classmates may think something is up and they complain to an advisor or something…” He sighed, “And I think we’d both prefer it if people didn’t _talk_.”

Xabi’s cheeks heated up again. It was so strange holding on to the idea that everything was normal between them, but at the same time, hiding the fact that they were in the same class together. It just didn’t compute.

But a lot of things didn’t compute in this Harry Kewell chapter in his life, anyway. Right now, his goal was just to survive this summer semester unscathed.

“Okay. I’ll be there next class.”

Harry laughed mockingly. “Nuh-uh. You have to be there in this class.”

“What, you mean, today?” Xabi demanded. “I’m still in my pyjamas!”

Harry looked at his watch, “And you’ll have 20 minutes to get ready.”

Ahh, fuck. Xabi was nowhere near ready to go back to class. He hadn’t made notes for the last chapter he was supposed to read. He hadn’t done the exercises yet. And he had promised to meet Stevie for lunch.

“Can’t I skip out on this meeting? The reviews for the exams aren’t until next week anyway.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Haven’t you been talking to your classmates? The reviews started last week. We finished lessons earlier than expected, so it pushed up our schedule compared to what was set in the syllabus.”

Xabi’s palms started to sweat. He did not know that. He bolted to his feet, “Okay, okay,” he stammered nervously. “I’ll find a way to get to class today. I’ll be there on time.”

Harry stood up too, “That’s good to hear.”

Xabi took a deep breath to calm himself down. Before he dashed upstairs to get dressed, he remembered something: “By the way, thanks for dropping by to talk to me.”

Harry smiled timidly. “It’s no problem. It was the least I could do, after… everything.”

Xabi didn’t really know what “everything” meant, but he took it anyway. He stuck out his hand. Harry looked at it unsurely at first, but he shook it anyway. Their hands were both clammy.

Harry shoved his hands in his pockets afterwards. “So, I’ll see you.”

“Yes, I’ll be there.”

“You have 15 minutes”

Xabi bit his lip nervously, but he repeated anyway, “I’ll be there.”

*

 **Sender:** daniel.agger@anfieldhigh.co.uk  
 **Recipients:** fernando.torres@anfieldhigh.co.uk

Hey, Fernando,  
When are you coming back? I miss you already.

_**This draft has been discarded.** _

*

“So, how was summer class?” Stevie greeted as Xabi walked up to meet him by the school steps.

“Difficult,” Xabi moaned, and it was true. He barely understood anything in the lecture today, while his classmates – his far less intellectual classmates – seemed to have such an easy time. He recognised the formulas from his textbook, but when Harry gave out the exercises, it was like his brain just dried up and died. He was going to have to pull all-nighter after all-nighter just to get a passing grade in this exam.

“I thought classes ended already?” Stevie asked. “You stopped having to attend them, right?”

Xabi answered carefully. “Yeah, we were on break. But we had to meet up today to review for the exams next week.”

“I can’t believe there are finals for summer classes.”

“I can’t believe I took summer classes.”

They both laughed.

“Hey, guys!”

Xabi’s blood ran cold at the sound of that voice.

“Hey, Finns!” Stevie greeted cheerfully.

The Irishman was walking up the driveway of the school’s main building, looking absolutely fresh and put-together in his tailored shorts, linen shirt and boat shoes. His shades gleamed in the sun. Xabi tried to hide behind Stevie. He didn’t even have time to shower this morning in his hurry to get to class. He was wearing his ill-fitting jeans and a shirt that didn’t go with it.

“What brings you here?” Stevie asked as Finns approached them.

Xabi died a second time. Finns was carrying a small Starbucks paperbag and a tray with two cups of coffee. There was no doubting it – Finns was here to meet up with Harry.

 _Please, please don’t say it._ Xabi pleaded in his mind and hoped to God that he could send the same message to Finns.

Finns looked from Stevie to Xabi then to Stevie again. It was a good thing he was wearing sunglasses because it hid the expression in his eyes.

“I’m here to meet my guidance counsellor,” Finns answered after a long pause. “We’re going to go through some requirements for my enrolment in university.”

“Your guidance counsellor, huh?” The Scouser teased. “With two cups of coffee?”

Finns looked at his tray and nodded, “Yeah. You never know. It might get me brownie points.”

Stevie laughed, and Xabi forced a chuckle too, just to keep up with the conversation.

“So, where are you going for university again?” Stevie asked, and Xabi was just hoping that his boyfriend would stop talking.

Finns smiled, not being able to hide his pride as he answered, “NYU.”

“Awesome! New York, how exciting!”

“Congratulations,” Xabi echoed with barely enough enthusiasm.

“Thanks, guys.” Finns replied. Though his eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, Xabi could imagine the defender was glancing at him when he continued, “And the best thing is, Harry’s going to Columbia, so we’re just a couple of train rides away from each other.”

Xabi ignored the smug undertone in Finns’ voice and just kept standing behind Stevie.

“Anyway, we should go ahead. We don’t want to make you late to your _appointment_ ,” Stevie teased.

Finns chuckled weakly and said goodbye. Xabi didn’t miss the fact that Finns never once addressed him.

“Great to see him again, right?” Stevie said, smiling with a hint of nostalgia.

“Yeah, yeah,” Xabi murmured. He couldn’t breathe a sigh of relief until they turned the corner and Finns disappeared into the school building.

*

“Hello, my love,” Harry called out as Finns knocked on the door of the faculty room. Most of the teachers were out for the summer break, and the other teachers of AP classes had gone out for lunch.

Finns cautiously made his way into the room. Technically, there was nothing wrong with what he was doing. He was no longer a student at the school, and a teacher had invited him in. It was just all those years of looking at the faculty room as the inner sanctum – it still intimidated him.

Harry’s cubicle was a small boxed space at the corner, since he was just a temporary teacher. He looked up and saw Finns at the entrance, holding up two cups of coffee and a paper bag that he hoped contained bagels.

“Morning, babe,” Finns greeted with a lopsided grin. Harry knew, this boy was up to no good.

The Irishman set the food down on the table, “When will your colleagues be back?”

“Um,” Harry stammered as Finns approached him on the chair and sat on his lap. “After an hour, I guess.”

“And you’re not busy right now?” Finns asked, his voice throaty. He let his fingers play with Harry’s unstyled hair.

“Nope,” Harry gulped. He wasn’t used to Finns dominating and demanding for sex. And certainly not in public – not in his workplace.

Finns shifted on Harry’s lap to steady himself, purposefully rubbing against the growing bulge in Harry’s chinos.

“Fuck, Finns,” Harry leaned back against his chair. When Finns palmed his crotch, Harry’s head instinctively fell back as he sighed breathlessly.

“What’s gotten into you?” Harry asked, letting his hands untuck his boyfriend’s linen shirt so he could feel the flesh of his chest and stomach.

“I just missed you,” Finns teased, leaning down to kiss Harry deeply. Immediately, Harry felt drunk with lust as he dazedly kissed back, letting his lust dictate the pace, the depth of their kisses

The chair creaked underneath them as they made themselves comfortable piled on top of each other. Finns wormed his hand in between their bodies to grip the iron rod that was Harry’s hard-on.

But Harry was not to be one-upped. He yanked open the Irishman’s shorts and took out his cock and teased it.

Finns moaned breathlessly, quietly, against Harry’s ear. It made the hair at the back of the Harry’s neck stand on end. He loved hearing the sounds Finns made when they had sex. The Irishman was always quiet and reserved. Sex was one of the few times he let himself lose control. 

“I’m so happy I get to do this before I leave this school.”

“Yeah, I’ve never done it in the faculty room before.”

“That’s one off the bucket list.”

It was fast and messy like all quickies were in public. Their hands were dry, but they were enough as they stroked each other to their orgasms, in the quickest way they learned how over the months that they were together.

Finns stood up cautiously, trying not to stain Harry’s chair with the cum streaked on his stomach and hands.

“Hold on,” Harry said, pulling open a drawer and taking out a pack of wipes.

“You neat freak,” Finns laughed as the Australian cleaned them off. 

“I also have alcohol on my desk in case you want to disinfect, thank you very much.”

Finns pressed a kiss to Harry’s forehead, “I’m fine.” He started unpacking the bagels he bought, handing one to Harry. “How was class, by the way?”

Harry bit into his bagel miserably. “Tiring.”

The Australian’s exasperation lifted Finns’ mood. He wanted Harry to enjoy his classes, he really did. Just not when Xabi Alonso was in them.

“Really?” Finns asked. He handed him his coffee to make him feel better. 

“I am beyond ready for these summer classes to end!” Harry wailed. “I’m over the novelty of teaching, there’s so much work, there’s little pay, it’s the middle of summer, and I have to be inside a classroom. There is no reason to love this stupid class.”

Finns laughed, reaching out to pat Harry’s knee. “It’s just a few more meetings, babe. Hang in there. Before you know it, we’ll be flying to the States, starting a whole new life.”

Harry cracked a smile. “Something to look forward to.”

Finns returned his grin. That’s right. A whole new life. Just the two of them.

*

_Thanks for not telling Stevie earlier.  
Sender: Xabi Alonso, 4:35 PM_

_I didn’t do it for you.  
Sender: Stephen Finnan, 4:41 PM_

_If keeping you away from Harry means keeping you and Stevie together, then so be it.  
Sender: Stephen Finnan, 4:45 PM_

*

Fernando was in a much better mood lately. He learned that the longer he was away from Liverpool, the easier it was for him to forget it. Today, in particular, he got up early and had a long jog in his neighbourhood, capped by a hearty breakfast prepared by his mother.

Everything was going fine and dandy, until he went back to his room and sat at his desk. He logged on to Facebook, and a chat window immediately popped up –

_Daniel Agger:  
Hey, are you there?_

And everything crashed back down again and Fernando’s chest got tight. His fingers were clumsy as he tried to fiddle with his Facebook settings so he could sign out from the chatroom.

The chat window lit up again.

_Daniel Agger:  
I know you’re there. I can see your Facebook activity getting updated on your Wall._

Ahh, shit. Fernando cracked his knuckles as if he were getting ready for a fight – it definitely felt like it. With his heart in his throat and with his palms sweating heavily, he typed out an answer.

_Fernando Torres:  
Yeah. What’s up?_

It was so lame. A week apart from Daniel and two weeks broken up, and the first thing he says is, “Yeah. What’s up?” Fuck, this was the stuff of movies.

_Daniel Agger:  
How’s Spain?_

Fernando cringed. The one thing he hated about chatting was that he could never really place the exact emotion of what was being said. Unless a liberal dose of emoticons was used, of course, but Daniel was never an emoticon type of person. That was more Pepe’s style.

He read the message again. Was Daniel being sarcastic? Or was he genuinely interested in how he was doing in Spain?

And for the second time that night, Fernando typed out another meaningful, earth-shattering reply.

_Fernando Torres:  
It’s fine._

It took Daniel longer to reply this time, and honestly, Fernando couldn’t blame him. Maybe in Liverpool, Daniel was also sitting in his room, agonising about what Fernando meant by “it’s fine” too.

_Daniel Agger:  
Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?_

And that was the bomb. Full stop. Game over.

Fernando leaned back against his chair to just take it all in. He’d been anticipating this question since the day he told his mother to buy him a ticket to Spain. And he still had no answer to it.

 _Revenge._ He started typing it out, but then started deleting it before he could even finish the word. That wasn’t entirely true. Sure, he wanted to take Daniel by surprise a little. But he wanted to tell him even more.

He tried again: _It just came up._

But that was bullshit. And Daniel hated bullshit. Fernando at least owed him a decent answer.

_I didn’t think you’d want to know._

Now that was true. Really. Fernando had mulled over the idea of calling Daniel or approaching him in training or maybe dropping by his house. He planned to tell him about Spain and his mum and he planned to tell it with a straight face and a steeled heart.

Then he realised he couldn’t and just slightly didn’t want to. 

Fernando stared at the words again, and his fingers hovered over the ‘enter’ button. He didn’t think he could send this. It screamed, “Love me! Love me! Pity me and take care of me!”

Groaning angrily, Fernando closed the chat window altogether and signed out.

Halfway across Europe, in a house in Liverpool, Daniel stared at his chat window in disbelief. _Fernando Torres is no longer signed in to chat._ It was like that boy left him all over again.

*

The following day, Fernando vowed he would stay away from social networking sites – at least for now. He was still enjoying being completely isolated in Spain. It gave him the space he didn’t know he needed. He had even resisted all temptation to text even Stevie or Harry. He knew once he started contacting them, it would all snowball into him eventually contacting Daniel. And he wasn’t ready for that, as shown by his meltdown on Facebook the night before.

To avoid the Internet at all costs, Fernando kept himself busy at home. Today, he volunteered to walk the family’s two bulldogs, Pomo and Llanto, because everyone else was busy with their errands.

The Torreses had bought Pomo and Llanto several years back, at about that age where kids discover how cute dogs can be and endlessly nag their parents for one (or two, in this case). Flori initially hadn’t wanted dogs in her spotless house, but her husband had promised he’d walk the dogs and clean up after them. (He didn’t, eventually.) He had also tossed in the no-fail argument: “It will teach our kids some responsibility!”

So, Flori had caved.

Mari Paz, of course, had wanted a small, cute dog that she could dress up and put in her purse. But she was outnumbered by her two younger brothers, Israel and Fernando. Israel, in particular, had shrieked in the pet shop that he didn’t want to own a “puppy that looked like a gay rat.” So, they had gotten two, big, burly bulldogs instead.

It had been a while since Fernando played with the two dogs. Pomo, the older one, sniffed at Fernando’s sneaker suspiciously before letting the boy tie a leash around his neck. Llanto, who had always been more of Fernando’s pet, just wagged his tail happily.

To be fair, Fernando remembered all the little stops Pomo and Llanto loved to make when they took a walk: the stall that sold _jamon iberico_ in the fresh market where they stared wistfully at the meat, the bus stop where they sniffed at the people lining up on the sidewalk, the flower pot in front of Mrs. Reyes’ house where they liked to pee. (Mrs. Reyes was a grumpy mum, and Fernando didn’t like her one bit, so he let his dogs do their business every time.)

When they got to the park, though, the bench they always sat on was occupied by somebody else. Fernando felt a pang of disappointment, but he settled for sitting beside the gentleman anyway. Pomo and Llanto tiredly lay down by his heels.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Fernando Torres.”

Fernando looked up to look at the guy beside him. He couldn’t really make out his face at first, since he was backlit by the harsh afternoon sun, but once he squinted, he immediately recognised the features of the other person.

“Raul?” He asked almost breathlessly.

Raul smiled. “The one and only.”

Fernando practically leapt forward in his seat and the two hugged tightly.

“Word did have it that you were back in town,” Raul said, leaning back against the bench to assess the younger boy.

“Yeah, yeah, I am. I arrived just a couple of days ago.”

“And is that why you haven’t even called me to let me know you were in Madrid?”

Fernando blushed in embarrassment. He babbled, “I’m sorry, it’s just been a whirlwind ever since I got here, I haven’t really settled down yet and…”

Raul clapped a hand on Fernando’s knee, and Fernando almost jerked.

“Relax. It’s okay,” Raul said with a knowing smile.

That eased the tension a little, and Fernando sighed happily, “It’s so great to see you.”

Raul pulled him in for a hug again – this time it wasn’t perfunctory. It was long and lingering, and Fernando let himself nuzzle against Raul’s shoulder. He loved the scent of detergent on Raul’s clothes – it made them smell like they were washed with love and sunshine.

“So, I see Pomo and Llanto are doing well,” Raul pointed out as they pulled apart.

Fernando glanced down to check on his dogs. They were happily pawing at each other.

“Yeah. You remember them.”

Raul snorted. “Of course.”

“I’m actually surprised _they_ remember me.”

Raul replied with the same disbelieving tone: “Of course.” He scooted closer to Fernando as if he was gonna share a secret. “You know, you were only gone for a year. We didn’t forget you that easily.”

Fernando felt his heart skip a beat again.

Raul continued, “We should hang out, catch up with each other.” And the way his head titled forward, or the way his body was angled completely toward Fernando, or the way his gaze on the boy didn’t waver for a second – the invitation was heavy with meaning.

Fernando nodded dazedly. “Sure, sure. We’ll arrange something. I don’t have my mobile, but I can call your house?”

But Raul just laughed. “No, let’s arrange it now while I’ve got you here in front of me. You didn’t even tell me you were back in Spain, so I’m not taking my chances anymore.”

The younger boy’s cheeks burned up again. “Okay.”

“We can do tapas and drinks. When are you free?”

“Well, other than walking the dogs, I don’t really have anything planned this week.”

“Great! Why wait then? Let’s go out tonight.”

“Great,” Fernando echoed. He hadn’t felt this light in weeks. The laughter wanted to burst right out of his chest. Best of all, Raul looked just as overjoyed as he was feeling.

This was exactly how he remembered Raul: with an open smile and windswept curls and the bright golden sunlight framing his face. Everything about him made Fernando feel at ease, safe and wanted – like the past few weeks hadn’t happened.

“I’ll pick you up from your place.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Come on, you’ve been gone from a Madrid for so long. I don’t think you can find your way through the city anymore,” Raul teased.

Fernando laughed too. “Fine. I’ll see you tonight.”

“I can’t wait.”


	15. The love that has no past

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Fernando groaned under his breath as he paced his room back and forth. He’d been pacing so furiously for the past 15 minutes, he was sure he’d burned a hole in the carpet already.

There was a soft knock on his door and his sister peeked in: “Hey, Fer, are you busy tonight?”

Fernando gulped nervously, “Yeah, I am. Why, what’s up?”

Mari Paz answered, “I was just looking for someone to watch a movie with. The new Fast and the Furious movie is out.”

“Sorry, I’m meeting up with,” he ended up coughing before he could say the name, “Raul.”

Mari Paz broke into a grin. “Oh, Raul! With the curls, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, with the curls.”

“Isn’t he your really cute friend? The one with the big, gooey eyes?”

All these descriptions were making Fernando feel a good kind of queasy.

“I haven’t seen him in a while. He’s so cute!” Mari Paz repeated.

“Uh, yeah, he’s cute, I guess. If that’s your type,” Fernando laughed, but it sounded hollow in his chest.

“Is he single? I wonder if he’d date me,” Mari Paz sighed wistfully.

Fernando smiled uneasily, “I’ll try to put in a good word?”

“Awesome. Thanks, kiddo!” She giggled all the way back to her room.

Fernando allowed himself a small chuckle, a moment to relax, as he perched on the edge of his bed.

Then, the doorbell rang, and he heard all the way from inside his room. It sent shivers down his spine and to the tips of his fingers and toes.

He jumped to his feet. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he started chanting again. He went to the mirror and started fixing his hair quite obsessively.

“Fernando, your friend is here!” His mother called out from downstairs.

The boy spritzed some perfume on his wrists and his pulse points, and then he spritzed some more into a cloud around his body. Of course, he was overdoing it, but he just wanted to smell good. You know, in case Raul nuzzled up against him, anywhere against him, he would smell delicious.

Not that he was expecting Raul would do that, of course. This was just a night out between two friends. Two friends that hadn’t seen each other for more than a year. Two friends that started sleeping with each other three days before one of them flew out of the country.

Right, Fernando was overthinking again.

When he went downstairs, Raul had already been ushered into the kitchen where Flori was cooking. Mari Paz was there too, partly cutting carrots, partly checking out her brother’s friend.

“You sure you boys don’t want to stay for dinner?” Flori asked.

“It’s okay, ma,” Fernando said. “We’ll go ahead.”

“Where are you guys going tonight?” Mari Paz asked.

“I was thinking of bringing Fernando to Ponte, that place along the University Avenue that opened a few months ago?” Raul said.

“That’s such a great place, isn’t it?” Mari Paz gushed.

“Yeah, it turns out a Fine Arts major put up the place himself, painted the art on the walls and picked the music and everything.”

“You should try their seafood marinara. It’s the best.”

“Great, we’ll make sure to order that.”

Fernando felt a slight pang of jealousy that Raul and his sister enjoyed a similar world.

Once they were out of the house, Fernando commented wryly, “Mari Paz has her eyes on you, by the way.”

Raul raised an eyebrow at Fernando’s tone, but he didn’t tease the boy. He just answered simply, nipping the issue at the bud. “I’ve already set my sights on another Torres.”

Fernando’s cheeks grew hot, and he bit back a flattered smile.

“Oh. So, it’s Israel that’s your type?”

“You think you’re witty, don’t you?”

“Ah, yes, it’s one of my many alluring qualities,” Fernando said, batting his eyelashes.

Raul shook his head, chuckling, “And here I was thinking I missed you.”

Fernando’s tone was still playful, but his expression was marked with uncertainty, “But you did, right?”

Raul wanted to reach out a place a kiss on his cheek, but they were still too near the Torres residence and the streets were busy, and maybe it was too soon after everything or nothing that had gone on between them.

He pulled Fernando in for a reassuring hug instead. “Of course I did.”

*

Raul stirred his drink in an effort to make it weaker. Right now, it was more Jack than Coke, and he could already feel his cheeks getting warmer.

“So, tell me about your past year,” he said.

Fernando shrugged, unable to really condense everything in a ready answer. His eyes were twinkling, so maybe his drink was more Vodka than Sprite too.

“Why don’t you tell me about your past year first?”

Raul shrugged too. They both burst out laughing.

“Okay, how about we take it slow?” Raul leaned closer to the table and squeezed Fernando’s arm. He’s been doing that the entire night, Fernando noticed, small touches here and there. It made Fernando feel warm and cosy.

The older boy continued, forming a more specific question. “Was it horrible in the first few months of your move?”

Fernando took a sip of his drink and smacked his lips. “You know, it wasn’t as horrible as I would have expected during the beginning. I had a roommate in the dormitory, and we got on well, so I always had someone to talk to. And there were more than enough Spanish lads in the school. They helped me settle in.”

Raul nodded, staring at Fernando intently like he was hanging on to every word.

“But, of course, it still got lonely,” Fernando admitted, playing with the water ring left by his glass on the table. “When I had really bad days, all I wanted was to go home and see my parents, Israel and Mari Paz, and all of my friends here. But, I couldn’t.”

“And it wasn’t just during the first few months of my move. When you get lonely and homesick, it can happen any time of the year. I was feeling really shitty when I called up my mom to tell her I wanted to go back to Spain this summer,” Fernando pursed his lips tightly. A dull pain throbbed at his temples at the memory of his break-up with Daniel.

Raul noticed the change in the other boy’s mood. He placed his hands on the table next to Fernando’s so their fingers grazed against each other’s.

Fernando exhaled slowly. He couldn’t believe Raul had asked just one question and he was already bawling out a sob story. But Raul just sat there, listening, and it made him feel infinitely lighter to be able to get things off his chest.

“You’re so lucky you have everyone important to you right here in Madrid.”

Raul laughed faintly. “Not really. Not everyone.”

Fernando took a long sip from his drink to distract him from the painful wrenching of his heart.

“Your turn, Raul. How was senior year? Is it really as awesome as they make it out to be?”

Raul laughed, partially grateful for the break in the tension. “Yes, yes, it was. But what they don’t tell you is that it’s also the most stressful year of your life. Between partying and cramming, I was just exhausted all the time. I’d literally crash in bed after training and sleep all the way until the next morning. I’d forget to take a bath, have dinner and do my homework, it was disgusting.”

Fernando snorted, “That can’t be true. People like you are basically perfect. You probably didn’t even get bags under your eyes or have a curl out of place.”

“Aw, Fer, you think I’m perfect.”

“That was a metaphor!”

“No, it wasn’t. Metaphors are – ”

“I was being sarcastic,” Fernando added.

“So, it was a sarcastic metaphor.”

Fernando crossed his arms over his chest. His cheeks were red, but his face was bursting with embarrassed laughter. “Why have you stopped drinking?” He demanded, changing the topic. “Drink faster!”

Raul relented. He took the pitcher and carefully poured them a fresh round of drinks. Fernando sighed contentedly, leaning his head on the railing of the balcony where they were seated. The cheap Christmas lights draped across the place blinked dizzyingly.

“I mentioned to Iker and the boys that you were back, by the way. I hope that’s okay,” Raul said, pushing Fernando’s refilled glass to him.

“Sure. I’ve been meaning to meet up with them one of these days.”

“They’re excited to see you too.” Raul said, “In fact, they’re going to be at Blackheart Club tonight. It’s just a train ride away, if you wanna head there after we finish this round.”

Fernando chuckled, “No, it’s okay. We can go out with them some other time. I’m fine staying here tonight.”

Raul kept his gaze on his drink, but there was no way to hide the smirk on his face. “Great. Me too.”

Fernando held up his glass, “ _Salud._ ”

“ _Salud._ ”

*

Xabi wasn’t really done with his seatwork yet, but the last student had already left a good 15 minutes ago. He had watched Donald out of the corner of his eye as he submitted his paper to Harry. Donald was always the slowest in class. Until now.

Xabi wrestled with the last three items of the exercise. He tried to rack his brain but he just couldn’t remember how to solve any of the problems. This wasn’t in the chapter he reviewed last night. Pulling at his hair, Xabi whimpered quietly in frustration.

He would sit here all day if he had to. He didn’t like leaving items unanswered, much less guessing them. But it was already 15 minutes past dismissal, and Harry was just waiting for his paper patiently at the front of the room. And, Xabi’s dignity was dying by the second at the knowledge that he was the last one here. He always finished these problem sets ahead of everybody else.

Xabi looked up discreetly. Harry was already checking the papers that had been submitted by his classmates. And judging by his hand movements, there were a lot of checkmarks. Fuck, Xabi was only sure of his answers in about 10 of the 20 items. And he couldn’t even figure out these last three that were worth five points each.

Harry caught him looking, and he smiled politely. “No rush, Alonso. Just focus on your paper.”

Xabi’s cheeks burned. “No, I’m almost done,” he replied stubbornly. He didn’t see Harry shake his head, but he did hear Harry click his tongue in disapproval.

After a few more minutes of staring helplessly at his paper, the tense silence finally pushed Xabi over the edge, and he just scribbled random decimal numbers on his answer sheet.

He jumped to his feet. “There. Done and done,” he said, waving the paper triumphantly.

Harry wasn’t entirely convinced. “Are you sure? I can give you 10 more minutes to review your work.”

Xabi blushed in embarrassment again. It was bad enough that he felt like the dumbest student in class, but now, his teacher thought so too.

“No, I’m confident of my answers,” Xabi said, handing over his papers. Even his voice sounded firm.

It all came crashing down though when Harry accepted his problem set. Xabi saw the subtle way Harry’s eyebrows knitted together in disappointment when he scanned the Basque’s answers.

“You know, I’ve been working hard at getting back on track,” Xabi couldn’t help but blurt out. And he didn’t mean to sound so haughty.

Harry’s eyebrows rose, unimpressed. “Well, you can’t just cut class and then skip the next three meetings, then expect that nothing has changed.”

Xabi snapped, “I get it! I already said I was sorry, okay.”

“Watch your tone, Xabi. I’m still your teacher,” Harry replied calmly, but his eyes were blazing.

Xabi’s jaw dropped. It was like he was doused with a bucket of cold water.

He wouldn’t have acted this way with Rafa or Mr Wenger or Mr Ferguson, though he hated him with a passion. He wouldn’t have been absent to any of their classes unless he was basically dying of a disease, and he definitely wouldn’t have answered them back like a petulant child.

Xabi stopped by the Harry’s desk as he was about to leave. The Australian had gone back to checking his students’ seatwork, and he didn’t even look up though he knew Xabi was standing in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” Xabi mumbled morosely. “I was out of line.”

There was a slight pause as Harry finished with one paper and moved to the next. “Very well,” he replied, nodding curtly.

Xabi thought Harry was going to say something else, anything else, to assure he wasn’t mad or disappointed. But the silence stretched on awkwardly. Xabi just murmured a polite “have a nice day” and then slunk out of the room.

*

Harry was planning to relax for a few minutes before getting down to finalising the exam questions for the AP Chemistry finals. But Ma’am Dolores popped by his cubicle and told him one of his students had asked to see him.

Harry reluctantly got up from his comfortable chair to make his way to the entrance of the faculty room. He cancelled classes today so his students could have more time to review. He wondered what would possess a student to drop by school on a free day so near the exams.

“Hi, Harry.”

Ah, but of course.

“Hi, Xabi,” the Australian greeted back.

“Sorry, I hope it’s okay if I talk to you about something.”

“It’s alright. How can I help you?”

Their conversation was so stilted. The two of them were already uncomfortable with each other as it was, and it didn’t help that there were teachers and students milling about around them as well, making them both so self-conscious and guarded. Harry refused to step out of the faculty room and remained half-hidden by the door. Xabi, on the other hand, stood so stiffly outside, with his feet planted together and his eyes darting from side to side, checking if anyone they knew could see them.

“Anyway, I just wanted to apologise for our argument the last time. I didn’t mean to talk to you that way,” Xabi said. “And again, I’m really sorry for cutting class too. There’s no excuse for that.”

Harry sighed, “No, it’s alright. I didn’t want to play the ‘teacher’ card. I know you’re in a very difficult position as well.”

“I just want to assure you that I’m really working hard to catch up with my classmates. I’ll be ready for the exam,” Xabi said earnestly.

Harry knew that tone – it was the tone of students trying to get on the good side of their teachers. He _used to be_ that student. He couldn’t tell if it was genuine or contrived, but the one thing he knew for sure was that Xabi was desperate.

“Write this down,” he instructed. And although Xabi looked lost, he obediently opened his notebook and poised his pen readily. Harry dictated several titles of Chemistry textbooks and identified particular chapters as well. Xabi wrote furiously.

“You can check those out in the library. They’ve been a great help to me when I was taking up AP Chemistry, so maybe you could put them to good use too.”

Xabi beamed as he reviewed the list, “This is great. Some of the problems we’ve been working on aren’t discussed in my textbook.” He looked up, smiling warmly, “Thanks, Harry.”

“It’s no problem.”

“My grades haven’t become that low, right? That’s not why you gave me these pointers?” Xabi kidded, but Harry could see the worry in his expression.

“Your grades aren’t low. You’ve done well enough for most of the term to get above-average marks.” Harry explained. “But the recent dip in your performance did have a slight effect on your standing. It might not exactly be as high as what you’re used to in your other classes.”

Xabi frowned. “Is it irreversible?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Harry answered. “We’ll have to see. The exam accounts for a significant portion of your final grade anyway, so it’ll depend on how you do.”

Xabi nodded resolutely, clutching his notebook, “I promise, I’ll go through these books you recommended. I’ll do better in the finals.”

Harry smiled in encouragement. “I’m sure you will.”

Xabi shuffled his feet. “By the way, I got you this,” he held up a brown paper bag.

Harry took it unsurely then peeked inside.

“They’re just cupcakes from Café Georgina. I know you really like them.”

Harry looked away. Of course Xabi would know that. He brought him to that café on a date.

“I really can’t take this.”

“No, go on, it’s just a token of my apology.”

“I don’t think it’s appropriate.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Xabi said, waving away Harry’s concerns, “I would do this for any teacher. In grade school, I almost failed my home economics class because I didn’t have any baking skills, so I bought a set of cupcakes from our neighbourhood bakery and passed them off as my own.”

Harry laughed. “In _grade school_? You were that grade-conscious in grade school?”

“Yeah, I started young,” Xabi laughed too, looking more at ease now.

They both sighed.

Harry returned the package to Xabi, “I really can’t take this.” He added, “Thank you, though, for the thought.”

Xabi pursed his lips into a straight line. “Okay. I understand,” he said, but his face was red in embarrassment.

“So.”

“So.”

“I should get back to work.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

They shot each other forced smiles, and then turned around at the same time to leave.

*

**Fernando Torres’ Facebook Wall**

**Pepe Reina** : **Iker Casillas** is doubting that you’re even in Madrid because you haven’t shown your beautiful, freckled face to us all summer.

 **Fernando Torres** : I am in Madrid, idiot.

 **Pepe Reina** : Just checking. You never know, you might have left the country without telling anyone.  
 _Daniel Agger likes this._

 **Fernando Torres** : I’ve just been busy.

 **Pepe Reina** : Psh. Tell **Raul Gonzalez** to stop hogging you.  
 _Xabi Alonso and 5 others like this._

 **Raul Gonzalez** : Relax, Reina, I’ll make sure he goes to the party on Saturday.

 **Fernando Torres** : Yeah, we’ll be there!

 **Pepe Reina** : Oh, so you’re a “we” now?  
 _This comment has been deleted._

*

“You look like shit,” Finns said as way of greeting.

Dan looked up from the Mac perched on his lap and grunted a lazy “hey.”

“Have you even taken a shower yet? You look disgusting,” Finns scolded. The younger boy was still in bed, his sheets pooled all around him, his hair was obviously uncombed, his skin was pale and sallow.

Dan shrugged and just tinkered around on his computer.

“Please don’t tell me you’re hopelessly refreshing Fernando’s Facebook or something.”

Dan scowled. “I am not.” And just before Finns could sigh in relief, Dan added, “But his Wall hasn’t had any activity since yesterday afternoon, if you cared to know.”

“Oh, god, you’re going crazy.”

“I am not!” Dan struggled to sit up straighter. “I’m just in a rut.” He reached for his pack of cigarettes on his nightstand.

“Ah, and you’re smoking heavily again. Yup, not going crazy. Got it.”

“Haha,” Dan said dryly, sticking a cigarette between his lips and lighting it with shaking fingers. “You know, I want to correct this whole misconception that I’m in this rut because of _Fernando_.” Dan exhaled his cigarette smoke and made some fancy hand gestures the way he always did when he wanted people to think he looked wry and ironic.

“Do I miss Fernando? Yeah. I guess. But the reason I’m going out of my mind is because he _left_ me. That’s never happened to me before. He broke up with me and literally left me. That’s the kick in the gut – not Fernando _per se_.”

Finns stared at him for a short moment with an amused grin on his face. “Wow, even when you’re depressed, you can still find time and energy to be difficult.”

Dan smirked. “So, why are you here?”

“Just checking if you’re still alive.”

“If you’re planning to get me out of bed, you are doomed to fail.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I don’t have any plans of going out either – Harry’s busy fixing the finals for his summer class.”

“His summer class with Xabi Alonso, you mean.”

“Yes, Xabi Alonso and four other Chemistry dorks,” Finns said. “I trust him,” he added defensively.

“Good for you, Finns,” Dan snorted. “Anyway, if you don’t have any real plans other than to _attempt_ to mock me, feel free to hang out here. Everything we need is right here – I still have an extra pack of cigarettes, there’s an unopened bag of Doritos by the dresser and there’s porn in my laptop.”

“Dammit, Dan, you were watching porn before I arrived?”

“When I wasn’t refreshing Fernando’s Facebook,” Dan said without batting an eyelash, so Finns couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic.

“Are the sheets clean?” the Irishman gingerly poked around the bed before settling in.

“Come on, Finns, it’s not like…”

“Hm. Don’t even say it.”

Dan laughed heartily.

*

Now, this was getting a bit awkward.

They spent the entire afternoon mostly in silence. Finns had busied himself – and quite enjoyed – reading Dan’s old comic books, while the Dane went from one social networking site to another. Once in a while, they’d have a quick conversation about something Dan saw online.

But Daniel had stopped surfing the Internet a couple of minutes ago, and he’d gone back to watching his porn flick.

Yes, apparently, he wasn’t lying when he told Finns he had been watching porn when the Irishman arrived.

And it’s not like Finns was a prude. He knew Daniel had porn, and he had porn himself. But it’s just… they’ve never really watched porn _together_.

Finns sneaked a glance at the video. It was straight-up porn – no chains, no dungeons, no whipped cream. But damn, it still looked like good porn.

There were three guys in the video. Three handsome guys, Finns qualified, because admittedly, half of the porn films he’s seen had downright unattractive people. They had great, steroid-pumped bodies, yes, but their faces… Finns wouldn’t sleep with them if he saw them in a club.

One guy – buzz cut, bulging muscles and a stern boyish face – was laid out on the bed. The second guy sucked on his cock, his bright green eyes staring up at the screen as he licked the stiff meat licentiously. A third guy sat on the edge of the bed. His hair was long and dark and tucked behind his ears, as he concentrated on working his fingers inside the second guy’s ass.

“So,” Finns coughed, and he gestured vaguely at the video playing. “I didn’t know threesomes were your thing.”

“Hm,” Dan shrugged noncommittally, staring straight at the screen of his computer. There was a small bulge in his shorts. Finns quickly tore his gaze away from his best friend’s lap.

“Is this going to take a while?”

“Fuck’s sake, Finns,” Dan hissed, “They’ve only just started.”

Finns hated that he instinctively tuned into the porn to check if the trio were really just starting.

The boy with the long, unruly hair lay down on the bed, flat on his stomach. The guy with the buzz cut sat on top of him. The boy with the bright green eyes alternately sucked on the cock and ass laid out in front of him.

“Creative.”

“Finns, stop talking and just watch,” Dan barked out.

That made Finns shut up, and they watched in silence as the boys on the video shifted into a variety of positions. The Irishman crossed his legs tightly. He was so easily aroused by visuals. It was a blessing and a curse.

“It’s actually beautiful how acrobatic this is,” Dan was the first to speak this time around. He traced with a finger the graceful arched back of a guy who was fucking and being fucked at the same time. He snickered at his own comment before returning his hand to where it originally was: on his lap.

Finns let his gaze flicker downwards discreetly. Dan’s cock must have been raging hard as it tented prominently in his shorts. The Dane didn’t try to hide that he was gripping his erection tightly by its base. Finns crossed his legs even more tightly, and he thanked the Lord that he wore jeans today. His hard-on wasn’t as obvious under the thick denim.

When Finns looked up, he found his best friend staring at him, point-blank. There was an amused smirk on his lips. The Irishman didn’t know when Dan had stopped watching the porn, but it was obvious he had caught Finns checking him out.

Holy hell, Finns cursed inwardly. He gaped back at Daniel, unable to explain.

Daniel grinned. He took the older man’s hand and guided it inside his shorts.

That jolted Finns out of his daze. He yanked his hand back, yelping in bewilderment, “Daniel!”

“What?” Dan taunted back. He pushed his laptop to the foot of the bed and shifted to his side so he could stare at Finns more closely.

“What are you doing?” Finns hissed.

Dan gently massaged his cock. “You owe me, Stephen.”

“This isn’t going to solve anything.”

“Now that I’m single, you’re going to hesitate?”

“I’m with Harry now,” Finns rambled.

Daniel’s expression changed, and his eyes turned stormy. Finns knew what he was thinking – he had never hesitated when he tried to drive a wedge between Daniel and Fernando.

“I said, you owe me,” Dan just said again, voice low and gravelly. He took Finns by the wrist and pressed his hand down hard against his cock. He moaned in repressed pleasure.

“It’s precisely because I owe you, that’s why I won’t let you go through with this,” Finns said. 

“Bullshit,” Dan snapped. “I don’t need you to be my voice of reason right now.”

The Irishman recoiled. Daniel was aroused, sure, but it was getting increasingly obvious that it was a pained arousal. He looked miserable and driven to the basest of instincts.

Finns gritted his teeth so hard, it hurt his jaw. Finally, he let his fingers wrap around Daniel’s cock, an old, familiar routine.

Daniel sighed in relief, letting his head fall back against his pillows as he savoured the sensation of Finns jacking him off. He reached up to stroke the Irishman’s cheek briefly. “It doesn’t count as cheating if you’re only lending a hand,” Dan said.

*

This was the reason why it took Raul forever to pursue Fernando. Because they were two friends in a group of seven, ten, fifteen or so boys, and it was always impossible to get him alone.

Raul and Fernando arrived together that night. The moment they stepped into the private booth, they were met by a wall of noise. All their friends stood up from the table and started grabbing Fernando into big hugs.

“Fernando Torres! You’re back!” For a person who showed little emotion, David Villa sounded delighted.

“Finally, you little runt,” Carlos Puyol greeted with a hearty slap on Fernando’s shoulder. “We didn’t think you’d come back for the summer!”

Andres Iniesta stood on tiptoes to tug at Fernando’s blonde hair, “My god, you need a haircut.”

“Like anyone would take hair advice from you,” Fernando shot back.

“I heard you visited Cesc in London!” Iker Casillas said.

“Yeah, we had an away game against Arsenal, so we were able to catch up. It’s rare that I can go to London, though, so I hardly see him too,” Fernando explained.

“Still. You’re still lucky,” Iker said with a tiny sigh. Raul glanced at his teammate sympathetically. He knew Iker missed Cesc terribly. They were close friends.

“Now, come on, boys,” Pepe bellowed loudly. “We’re blocking the way, so go back to your seats.” Given the sheer width of his body, it was easy for him to hustle and herd his friends back to their tables.

Raul and Pepe, the natural leaders of the group, exchanged knowing glances. At the rate people were jabbering, they wouldn’t even be able to get around to ordering drinks.

“We should probably go to the bar and just get drinks for everyone,” Raul said, though he knew Pepe was already thinking the same thing.

The goalkeeper made a quick headcount and ordered three pitchers of margarita for the group. While they waited for their drinks to be prepared, Pepe glanced over at their table – everyone was talking boisterously. Fernando sat at the center of the group, laughing along with everyone.

“I’m happy Fernando decided to return to Spain for the summer,” Pepe said. “I don’t think he realised just how much he missed everyone back home.”

Raul shrugged, “You’re in a new country living by yourself. I can’t even begin to imagine how fun that is.”

“Or lonely,” Pepe corrected. “It’s a mix of both.”

“You hanging in there fine?”

“Yeah. Weather’s crap and all, the food’s always fried and oily, but the football’s good. I love studying in England,” Pepe said. “But, I would go back to Spain as much as I could in a year. In a heartbeat.”

He added, “I can’t believe Fernando even _thought_ of skipping going home this summer.”

The bartender put two pitchers of margarita in front of them, before getting to work on the third one.

Pepe winked at Raul, “We deserve an advanced round of drinks since we did all the work.” He took two plastic cups from the stack given to them and poured them some margarita. The colour looked an even brighter shade of lime when it was in the white plastic cup.

“So, why did Fernando want to stay in Liverpool?” Raul meant for it to be a casual question, but for the first time in the conversation, Pepe seemed uncomfortable. He took a long sip of his drink, and that made Raul drink too.

Pepe cleared his throat. Man, the tequila in that drink was strong.

Raul stared at him expectantly.

“He was seeing someone.”

Raul laughed, and he hoped it sounded as nonchalant as he wanted. “Naturally.”

“So, there. I think Fernando wanted to spend the summer with him.”

“So, it was serious?” Raul busied himself with pouring them some more alcohol, so he wouldn’t have to look at the goalkeeper in the eye.

“It could have been?” Pepe said, wrinkling his face. “I don’t know. It got too dysfunctional though, it wasn’t worth it.”

Raul nodded too long, as if to convince Pepe, that yes, he understood, and no, he didn’t have any problems. They nursed their drinks again.

“Oy, how about sharing those with us?” Villa yelled from their table.

Pepe glanced at Raul, but the captain made no move. He wanted to stay here in the bar for now.

“Let me just get them their drinks, and I’ll be back,” Pepe said. He knew Raul still wanted to talk to him.

The goalkeeper placed the pitchers on a tray and carefully made his way back to their friends, trying not to spill anything.

Raul saw Fernando across the room, glancing at him questioningly. He offered a tight smile then quickly looked back down at the stained surface of the bar.

When Pepe returned, Raul already had a prepared question. But he didn’t want to seem too eager though, so he stalled before asking, “He was a good guy, though. The one Fernando was seeing?”

Pepe grunted noncommittally. “He’s okay.” He thought he saw Raul’s gaze darken in disapproval.

“They’ve broken up,” Pepe assured.

“That’s why he’s here,” Raul continued for him. He huffed and returned to his margarita.

“Hey,” Pepe nudged his friend, “Stop stressing out.”

“I’m not.”

“I already told you, they’ve broken up,” Pepe emphasised.

“What does that have to do with me?” Raul turned away irritably.

Pepe chuckled. He placed a comforting hand on the captain’s arm, “Raul, I know.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know.”

Raul’s expression into one of horror. Pepe cracked up. The alcohol warmed his chest nicely.

“Come on, Raul, why didn’t you tell me?!” Pepe demanded, laughing.

“I didn’t tell anyone!” Raul was laughing too, but his cheeks were bright red in embarrassment.

“Now, go on, tell me, how long have you been eyeing Fernando, hmm?” Pepe teased.

Raul sighed. He dreaded having to answer this question. “Ever since,” he mumbled.

“WHAT?” Pepe shouted in disbelief. The bar’s other patrons glanced at them strangely. Raul chugged down his margarita to avoid having to answer.

“So, for all these years, you and Fernando have been sneaking around behind our backs?” Pepe asked, giddy about all this new information.

“We weren’t!” Raul protested. His tone got noticeably morose when he admitted, “It only happened a week and a half before Fernando left.”

“What? But, but,” Pepe spluttered, “Why the fuck did you wait until then? We’ve been together in the national team for so long.”

“Pepe, I was captain,” Raul pointed out. “I wasn’t going to go and bed our new striker.”

Pepe shut up. The fun and games a few minutes ago died down. This was obviously a sensitive topic for Raul – it didn’t seem like he’d told this to anyone before.

“Besides, when Fernando entered the team, I had to be his mentor. I had to teach him and help him settle in. He looked up to me,” Raul sighed again, “My feelings were out of the question.”

“To be fair, none of us noticed. You made the right decision, Raul,” Pepe said.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Pepe swirled his margarita in his plastic cup, “And then, just before Fernando left…?”

Raul nodded. “Yeah. Didn’t have anything to lose anymore,” he said with a small, crooked smile. “And I’m happy the gamble paid off.”

Pepe broke into a wide grin. “I heard it did. I heard it paid off _twice_.”

Raul groaned, as Pepe laughed hysterically.

“Why did Fernando even think he could tell you this?”

“Ahh, it was one of those drunken truth-or-dares.”

“And what exactly was the question?” Raul raised an eyebrow.

Pepe let himself laugh wholeheartedly first. “If I tell you, do you promise to cheer up already? If you sulk the entire night, everyone’s going to notice and the party won’t be as fun.”

“Depends. Is it good news?”

The goalkeeper shrugged. “Well, Fernando just said you were the best guy he’s been with. I don’t know how many guys he’s choosing from, but being the best should count for something right? That counts as good news?”

Raul tried to glare at Pepe, he really did. Pepe was clearly mocking him. But a smile tugged too insistently at the corners of his lips.

Pepe hooted, “I see a smile coming on!”

“Fuck you,” Raul said, hiding his giddy grin behind his plastic cup as he downed his drink.

*

By midnight, the crowd in the club had easily doubled, and strangers were unabashedly stealing their seats. Some of them had no choice but to stand, but they took it as an opportunity to start dancing – at first, just bopping their heads to the beat, but then their shoulders and their hips started to follow.

Pepe and Raul had been together the entire night, hanging back to the fringe of the group and chatting engrossedly between themselves. Fernando watched them keenly, curiosity making his insides coil tightly.

When Pepe excused himself to go to the bathroom, Fernando practically jumped up from his seat, pushing past the throng of people to approach Raul.

“Hey,” Raul greeted, but it was barely audible with the noise in the club.

Fernando leaned in slightly so Raul would be able to hear him better. The captain instinctively put his arm around Fernando, hand resting on the small of his back, as if to welcome him in his personal space. The younger boy bit back a smile.

“You spent all your time with Pepe,” he commented.

“Yeah, we were catching up.”

A wave of panic hit Fernando. “About what?” He asked.

His heart thumped loudly against his ribcage all of a sudden. What if Pepe had told Raul about Liverpool? About Daniel? About their fucked-up year and their failed attempt at a relationship?

Fernando didn’t want to hide his past. Far from it. But he didn’t want Raul to find out that he was heartbroken and lonely and discarded. The last time they were together – last year, right before Fernando left – he was so young and full of promise.

“What has Pepe been telling you?” Fernando asked. He had to shout his question to be heard, so it was obvious when his voice wobbled in anxiety.

Raul’s arm tightened around him. “Nothing important,” he said honestly, looking Fernando straight in the eye.

But, Fernando still seemed sceptical.

Raul turned his head to the side and planted a chaste, but lingering kiss on the younger striker’s cheek. “It was nothing,” he assured again.

Fernando felt the blush rise up and colour his face “I – I…” he stammered before his jaw went slack and his hand touched the spot on his cheek Raul had kissed.

Sure, Fernando had slept with Raul, but that felt like it was forever ago. He was sure his captain had forgotten and moved on entirely. They never talked about it again. And while Raul had definitely insinuated that he had feelings for Fernando when they hung out the past few days, Fernando never felt comfortable assuming anything.

Fernando felt like a silly boy, all paralysed because of a demure kiss. He stared at Raul in confusion and embarrassment and unbridled fulfilment.

Raul didn’t even waver. He just stared back at Fernando with a silly smile on his face, shrugging as if to say, “What could I do?”

Suddenly, a brute force bludgeoned them from behind, throwing them forward. Pepe’s maniacal laughter rang in their ears, and obviously he had seen what had just happened between his two friends. That, or he was just really drunk. It was hard to tell sometimes.

“No more standing around!” Pepe yelled, slinging his arms heavily around Raul and Fernando, “We’re all heading to the dancefloor!”

Fernando was getting dizzy. Too many things were happening at the same time. Raul whooped as he saw their friends beginning a conga line to the middle of the club where the dancing had begun. Jesus Christ, a conga line.

Pepe left the two strikers to take his place at the start of the line, already yelling in Spanish to invite strangers to join them.

“I am not joining a – ”

“Come on!” Raul grinned, already tugging the boy so they could catch up with the others.

Fernando was too ecstatic to say no. He felt like the laughter could just bubble right out of his chest.

“Woo-hoo!” Pepe was hooting at the front of the line, and from all the way at the back, they could hear him.

“Make some noise!” The DJ urged and the crowd roared hungrily. Fernando didn’t know he had screamed along with them until he felt his throat go hoarse.

It was difficult to find space in the dancefloor for ten unruly boys, but Pepe eventually found a spot at the corner, right in front of the speakers. When the bass started pounding, Fernando could feel it all the way until the back of his skull. It was delicious.

“I just came to say hello!” The song blared, and everyone started jumping to the chorus. Fernando jumped up and down too, but they were too far gone already to know when they should be jumping or landing. The crowd pulsated erratically.

Through the tangle of arms being waved wildly in the air, Fernando saw Raul keeping close to his side. Sweat shone on his face and his curls were matted out over his forehead. When he caught Raul’s gaze, the older boy smiled at him dazedly. He looked so fucking high, nothing could bring him down.

Fernando smiled back, letting his eyes fall shut so he could relish everything in this moment. The acrid cloud of cigarette smoke, the feeling of sweaty skin sticking against sticky skin, the strong arm of Raul around his waist.

“I just came to say hello!” The song chanted again, and everyone joined in this time, yelling at the top of their lungs. Fernando stood on tiptoes so he could jump higher and higher. Even behind closed eyes, he could see the way the strobe lights flashed blindingly.

It felt like they were dancing forever.

*

Fernando groaned as he leaned heavily against Raul. “Please, please. Explain to me why we do this.”

Raul tightened his grip around Fernando’s waist and shoulders, hiking him up before he tripped on his own feet. “I don’t know what happened. Their drinks there aren’t usually that strong.”

They both stumbled up the street, Fernando desperately counting the numbers of the houses they passed in hopes that his was near.

“I am never drinking again,” Raul grumbled. His head pounded. His stomach churned queasily.

“At least until tomorrow.”

“If we live to see tomorrow,” Raul crowed and they both laughed uncontrollably.

“We’re here, we’re here!” Fernando announced raspily, trying to catch his breath.

The two boys battled with the doorknob, struggling to fit the key inside to unlock the door. Finally, they tumbled inside the house, on top of each other. The lights were out except for a lamp by the staircase.

“Come on, we’re almost near,” Fernando said valiantly.

“Shhh, keep it down, your parents are awake!”

“We have survived!” Fernando kept on talking. “We survived the bus stop and that pebbly walk and…”

“Nando, no, watch out!”

“OW! Fucking hell!” Fernando half-screamed through gritted teeth.

“I told you to stop,” Raul said. “You should know by now that your mom rearranged the furniture and put the coffee table here.”

“Oh, god, I can’t believe you know my house more than I do.”

They scrambled up the stairs on their hands and knees, with Raul chanting dizzily, “Almost there. Almost there.” They managed to make it up without passing out or throwing up.

Fernando helplessly pawed at the wall when they got to his room, struggling to find the light switch. Raul knew where it was, of course, but he chose not to say a thing. He liked the darkness.

“Come on,” he slurred to Fernando, “It’s no use.”

Fernando didn’t reply, but Raul felt an arm pulling him toward the bed. Raul’s body hummed with desire, but he knew this wasn’t the time.

Fernando let himself fall backwards on his mattress, pulling down Raul with him. They both groaned at the impact.

“Thank you, Lord, finally,” Fernando sighed, his eyelids drooped heavily with fatigue. The younger boy lay on his back, arms and legs splayed gracelessly. Raul lay half beside him, half on top of him. There were no limbs entwined or messy kisses shared or empty, romantic pronouncements whispered in the heat of the moment. They just lay in close quarters and drifted to sleep easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song referred to in the club is "Hello" by Martin Solveig and Dragonette.


	16. Stay stay stay

By sheer force of habit, Fernando woke up with a start in the middle of the night. Before he could even open his eyes, he was already reaching out to the space beside him, assuming it would be cold and empty, like it was for many, many nights the past year.

This time, though, his arm hit a warm body and it grunted a soft “ouch” in between deep, deep breaths. Fernando let his head fall back against his pillow, a soft smile on his face, and he went back to sleep too.

*

Fernando remembered every agonising moment of the morning after his first time. He awoke in cold sweat, his throat dry and his body sore. He expected to be in pain – it cackled at the pit of his stomach – but he didn’t expect it to be so all-consuming. His muscles, his bones, they throbbed and creaked, and every move felt like he was on pins and needles.

More than the physical ache, Fernando was emotionally raw, and that made him feel all the heavier. The night had been a disaster. He was a teenager, and he had all sorts of unfounded expectations about how glorious sex would be. It had turned out to be horrible. He sobbed in pain the entire time, and though he tried to mask it beneath his moans, he knew Raul wasn’t fooled. He wished the older boy hadn’t cared as much. He wanted him to enjoy, at the very least. But Raul was just stressed the entire time, worried at how he was hurting Fernando.

They managed to ride it out. Clumsily, awkwardly, embarrassingly, but they got there. Fernando passed out after, more of exhaustion than pleasure. He had hoped Raul wouldn’t be there when he woke and that they would pretend it never happened. He was willing to forget that Raul told him he liked him if that meant forgetting the sex afterwards. He had wanted to be good for Raul – he liked him terribly – and he knew he wasn’t able to do that.

No such luck. He tried to stay absolutely still, kept his eyes wedged shut, but Raul must have noticed that he had woken up. He felt the bed shift as the captain sat up.

“Hey, are you up? Fernando?” He sounded so worried until now.

Fernando reluctantly moved, couldn’t hide his wince at the pangs jolting at his back. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

The blonde plastered a smile on his face, “Of course.”

Raul wasn’t convinced though. The concern was written all over his face, but he didn’t push the issue. Instead, he stood up and returned with a bottle of water. “Drink. Do you need painkillers? I have some in my room.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Fernando kept his tone airy. He sat up to prove a point, but his body buckled and he fell back against the pillows with a soft thump.

“Oh no,” Raul said. “I’m going to get you some painkillers. If you don’t feel better in an hour, I’ll tell the coach you’re down with a fever.”

“Raul! I can’t skip training!” Fernando yelped, even though he didn’t know how he was going to complete the stretching exercises much less hobble through laps.

“It’s just a friendly.”

“But Aragones will give my spot to Villa!”

“For now.”

Fernando whimpered even though he knew Raul was right. The older boy brushed the hair away from his face and smiled fondly. “You need rest.”

The memories of the night before came flooding back. His vow that he was willing to forget that Raul said he liked him? He was taking that back right now.

“I wish you wouldn’t worry so much. It’s just making me feel worse.”

Raul pressed a kiss to Fernando’s forehead. “You’re my responsibility.”

“Always the captain.”

“I’m not saying that as your captain.”

Fernando blushed. He brought up the covers to his face. “I’m sorry about last night.”

“What are you apologising for? It was great.” And Fernando knew that if Raul was being completely honest, it wasn’t great. He’s probably had better. But he appreciated the lie nonetheless. Besides, Raul had an open smile and a warm glow. He looked genuinely happy to be there in bed with the striker.

“It will get better,” Fernando said, a subtle promise that maybe they could do it again?

“Sure it will,” Raul assured, though his smile faltered a little. There were only a few more days until Fernando left for Liverpool. They didn’t really have enough time, and they were only just starting. Those fears were left unspoken, though. Raul didn’t want to ruin what little they had right there, right then. A little was more than enough.

*

It was 11 AM when they finally got up. Fernando’s mother knocked on the door – loud and uncaring, like she always did when her sons had a hangover. It was her revenge on the boys for making her worry the night before. She always told them, don’t drink more than you can take, call when you’re going to be out later than midnight, don’t make a mess in the house when you stumble up to your room. Those rules were always broken in varying degrees, and she never failed to remind them.

“Drunk again! Fernando Jose Torres Sanz, don’t tell me this is all you came home for! Cheap alcohol!” She went around Fernando’s room picking up the dirty clothes and tossing them into the laundry basket. “I always told Israel, ‘Don’t come home drunk, you’re a bad example to your brother.’ And I was right! Look at this. Look at this!”

Flori looked down at her gangly son, buried under his blankets, still in his clothes from the night before. At least he had the presence of mind to kick off his muddy sneakers. She was going to have to wash those covers to get the scent of smoke and liquor out.

“Ayayayayay,” she tutted, slapping Fernando’s leg. “Wake up, little boy!”

It was Raul who stirred first even though Flori never addressed him. “Good morning, tia,” he mumbled.

“Raul,” Flori sighed. “You should tell Fernando not to drink too much.” She spoke as if Raul wasn’t just as hungover as her son.

“Yes, tia.”

“And thank you for bringing him home again last night. Are your parents alright that you stayed over? Maybe you should just let Fernando find his own way home sometimes. That would teach him a lesson,” Flori said.

Fernando opened one eye. “I’m half-awake. I can hear you, ma.”

“Good. You should listen.”

Raul chuckled raspily. “It’s no problem. My parents know I’m here. Besides, I have to make sure niño doesn’t get into too much trouble.”

Flori smiled kindly at his son’s friend. “Thank you. Now, there are omelettes downstairs for breakfast. They’re a fresh batch since Israel finished the first one. Come down while they’re still hot.” She gathered the last of the dishes on Fernando’s desk and made her way out of the room.

Fernando glanced at Raul. “You’re getting better at handling her.”

“Much better than you, for sure.”

“It’s unfair. You drink more than me and I’m the irresponsible one?”

Raul smiled and shrugged. Parents loved him. They both descended into silence as they let the new morning settle about them.

Fernando glanced at his friend, his vision blurring at the movement. He blinked a little to get things into focus. “I thought you would have left by now.”

Raul snickered. “Is that your subtle way or telling me to go? Because it’s not very subtle.”

Fernando laughed too. “No, no. It was just an honest observation.”

“Have I ever snuck out on you in the morning?” Raul pointed out.

Fernando pursed his lips, shook his head. “But, you never know. Maybe you wanted to save yourself the awkwardness. Or maybe your parents needed you home early, or maybe you’re tired of my mother’s temper,” he said, listing all the excuses he’s heard over the past year.

Raul rolled on his side so he could look the younger boy in the eye. “My parents know where I am. While your mother does indeed scare me, we’ve been getting home earlier these past few days – it’s a work in progress. And I don’t feel awkward waking up with you. Why should I be?”

Fernando shrugged dumbly. Raul made it sound like it was such an easy decision to stay the night. If it was so easy, why couldn’t other people do it as readily?

He violently squashed that bitter thought. He wasn’t going down that road – not now and hopefully, not anymore.

Raul stared at Fernando’s ceiling – the old glow-in-the-dark stars he had stuck there as a kid, the faded decals on his bedroom light. The patterns were soothing and it made his hangover recede. “I just think that if you take someone to bed, naturally, you should stay until the morning, don’t you agree?”

“Most people don’t think like that.”

“They don’t?”

“Not anymore, at least.”

Raul chuckled self-deprecatingly. “Ah, I’m an old man and I have old ways.”

Fernando smiled although he knew Raul couldn’t see it. “I quite like these old ways.”

*

It’s been a year since Fernando last took a siesta, but it was amazing how easily his body fell back into the habit. Once the afternoon sun hit its peak, and the neighbourhood quieted down as the children retreated to their hammocks, and his mother switched on the radio in the kitchen so she could listen to the classics, Fernando felt the lull of sleep take over him.

His eyelids had grown heavy and his brain had turned slow, so when Pepe first texted, he didn’t hear. He noticed the second time the goalkeeper sent him a message, but he couldn’t muster up the energy to reach for his phone on the table. It probably wasn’t urgent anyway – not as urgent as his nap.

Fernando was just about to fall into a light sleep when his phone started ringing. Since his phone was a temporary one, an old model his mother had kept for emergencies, it rang shrilly and persistently. None of those soft, dulcet tones that beep for two to three seconds. This one rang at the top of its voice like an alarm clock.

“This better be good, Pepe,” Fernando snarled in greeting.

“It is, actually,” Pepe said, sounding serious for once. “When are you flying out? I’m booking my plane ticket now. Do you want to go together?”

Suddenly, the warmth of his siesta – the warmth of home – dissipated and Fernando felt the chilling call of Liverpool. “I-I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Well, enrolment is in two weeks.”

“That’s so far away!” _No, it isn’t._

“I don’t really want to arrive for enrolment on the day itself. I was thinking I could fly out maybe two or three days before so I have time to get back into the groove of things.”

 _Two or three days before?_ That meant they would be leaving Spain in a week and a half!

Fernando could feel the blood rushing to his head. “Maybe we can do late enrolment instead.” That would buy them a few more days.

“What? We’ll get stuck with all the bad schedules!”

Fernando shrugged though he knew the goalkeeper couldn’t see him. If he enrolled late, chances were high that he wouldn’t be in the same classes as any of his football teammates. He wasn’t against that idea.

“Wait. You do want to go back to Liverpool, right?”

Fernando missed a beat and then scoffed. “Of course! I have a scholarship at Anfield!”

“Yes, exactly,” Pepe spoke slowly and clearly. He didn’t want to give Fernando any chance to get the wrong idea. “That’s why we should probably get back in time for enrolment – proper enrolment.”

The striker mumbled inaudibly.

“Besides, the sooner we get back to pre-season training, the better. I think I’ve gained five pounds in the last week. Mama has been overcompensating for my year away by giving me mountains and mountains of food. I had paella for breakfast. Breakfast!”

“You tell me. I had two plates of tortilla this morning.” Fernando patted his stomach and it sounded so round and heavy.

“I’m sure you and Raul worked up an appetite anyway.”

“What?”

“You and Raul – you two went home together last night, right? I assume you’re both making up for lost time,” Pepe teased.

“Oh. We haven’t.”

“Haven’t what?”

“Haven’t… anything.”

“Had sex?”

“Had sex or anything else.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious. We haven’t even kissed.” Sure, there were stolen kisses on the cheek, the forehead, sometimes, teasingly, the corner of the mouth. But those weren’t real kisses.

There was a loud whoosh as Pepe gasped comically. “Shut the fuck up!” He yelled so loudly, Fernando had to pull the phone away from his ear.

“Stop lying to me! You two always go home together when we drink.”

“He just stays over.”

“But I see you two making eyes at each other all the time, talking in corners and cuddling,” Pepe deflated, like he had a personal investment in this relationship.

“Yeah,” Fernando said. “But we just haven’t gotten around to doing other things. I think Raul wants to wait.”

There’s a long stretch of suspicious silence. “Why do you sound like you aren’t troubled by all of this? I don’t mean to compare, but…”

Fernando knew where Pepe was coming from. How many times had he worried over a text message Daniel didn’t reply to or a date he didn’t bother to confirm? How many times had he taken it against Daniel for being uninterested in romance? He balked at the memory.

He chose his words carefully as he tried to explain the difference to Pepe and to himself too.

“There’s nothing wrong with not kissing or not holding hands or not having sex. I guess when it was with” – he stumbled a little over the name – “Daniel, it came along with so much uncertainty. I didn’t know if he liked me or if he wanted to be with me; him not kissing me or holding my hand or anything else just made the ambiguity worse.

“I guess, with Raul, I don’t feel like I don’t know where I stand. So, why worry?”

It was a long, unwieldy, ineloquent answer, but Fernando felt a weight lifted off his chest after.

Pepe was quiet for a long time. Fernando could imagine him squinting and scrutinising his answer.

“What?” Fernando asked self-consciously.

“Where is this newfound maturity coming from?”

Fernando broke into a relieved smile, hearing that his friend was on his side. A giddy kind of happiness took over, all talk of Liverpool tucked away for now. “I’ve always been mature.”

“Huh,” Pepe snorted. “From now on, the rule is you should only date older guys. It turns out, they’re good for you!”

*

Finns didn’t want to visit Daniel again, not after what happened the previous week. Maybe in another time – an earlier time – he would have pounced on any opportunity to be intimate with his best friend, but there was too much water under the bridge now. He had Harry and a future, and Daniel had the rest of his life to fix. The problem was, whenever Daniel was confronted with a mess, he pulled everyone down into the rut with him.

As much as he wanted to avoid the Dane, though, Finns was getting worried. He hadn’t heard from Daniel since they fell into bed together last week. He never called or texted to explain himself or to apologise. He showed up for pre-season training, but he left as quietly as he arrived. He didn’t join the team for dinners or parties.

No one made an issue out of it – most of the players were quite happy that Daniel was laying low. Stevie hadn’t quite forgiven him for throwing a punch, and on his side were Xabi and Carra and everyone else afraid of the captain. A handful of them understood what Daniel was going through, but Finns could see they were tired of it. God, Finns was tired of it. But if he didn’t pull Daniel out of this downward spiral, no one was going to.

It took him back to the first year Daniel entered the team and he didn’t have friends and Finns was the only one who could tolerate him and his temper.

The damage was as bad as Finns expected. When he entered Daniel’s room – the Dane hadn’t bothered to come to the door – his best friend was lying face down in bed. The shades were drawn, his iPod was playing loudly and the air was thick with smoke and the stench of days-old fast food.

“Daniel!” Finns was aghast.

The younger boy rolled over and stirred but a little. “Hey.”

Finns had only seen Daniel descend into this deep a rut several times: when he broke a bone in his foot and was sidelined for two months, when his parents started fighting and he feared they would get a divorce, and when he first broke up with Fernando last year… after Daniel and Finns slept together.

Finns swallowed down the bile – the guilt – rising in his throat. He’s been paying for his sins.

He marched to the dresser and switched off the music. He took the ashtray, overflowing with cigarette butts, some still lit, and dumped them in the trash can. Then, he went to the windows.

“Please, don’t.”

Finns ignored Daniel, took the drapes and tugged them back with all his force. Even he had to blink furiously at all the sunshine suddenly pouring into the room. Daniel writhed in bed like he a vampire burning in the light.

“Nooo! Stephen!” He hissed, covering himself with his blanket.

Finns sat down beside Daniel on the bed and pulled off the sheets, patiently waited for the younger boy to stop thrashing around. After a surprisingly long fit, Daniel finally gave up his pillows and blankets, though he refused to sit up. His skin was grey and sallow.

“Daniel, what do you do the entire day?”

“Train. Sleep. I eat sometimes, and there are a couple of books I’m trying to finish.”

“Have you been out recently?”

Daniel scowled. “Training. Didn’t I just answer that?”

Finns wasn’t taking any smart-alecky comments. “No, I mean, out with your parents or your friends, in the world of the living. Because I sure as hell haven’t seen you.”

“I haven’t felt like it.”

“You haven’t felt like doing much of anything lately.”

Daniel smiled. His expressions were still lethargic, but there was a spark in his eyes now. “I can think of something I feel like doing right now.” He grabbed his best friend’s hand before he could turn away then placed it meaningfully on his leg.

“No,” Finns said sternly. He tried to move back, but Daniel tightened his grip and moved Finns’ hand higher up to his thigh.

“Don’t you remember the way we were last summer?” He teased, his voice raspy with sleep and lust. He covered Finns’ hands with his own and entwined their fingers. “You never left my side. We never left this room.”

Finns gulped. “That summer was supposed to be the last.”

“But it wasn’t, was it?”

“We’ve relapsed a few times, but things are different now. I’ve got Harry, and you’ve got Fernando.”

Something changed in Daniel’s face. It crumpled and darkened as he snapped with too much force, “I’ve got Fernando? Where is he now?” For a second, it looked like Daniel would cry, but he blinked a few times and the sadness was gone. Only anger was left behind.

Finns gave his best friend another minute to get his emotions in check. He knew he needed it. “Let’s get you dressed. I’m taking you out. Some fresh air will do you good, and then we can give this talk another try.”

*

After a large plate of steak and mashed potatoes, two glasses of ice-cold water and a slice of chocolate cake, the colour returned to Daniel’s face. Finns watched him eat, made sure he finished everything, took care of the bill even before Daniel could protest.

They walked off their meal after, and since there weren’t any parks nearby, they headed to Anfield High instead to go around the campus. Beyond the school buildings, it had a sprawling lawn twice the size of their training pitch and a couple of gardens on the side.

“Do you feel better?”

Daniel nodded. He craved a cigarette, but his head has been clearer since his last smoke. “Thanks for the intervention.”

“Of course,” Finns said. He knew that if Daniel had his way, he would be left alone and isolated to deal with his problems. Finns gave him time and space too, but after a while, that stasis had to stop. It was dangerous to leave Daniel to himself when he was in a dark place. He just stewed and stewed in his emotions until he’s become too absorbed in them, it was impossible to pull him out.

“Haven’t your parents noticed you’ve been catatonic?”

“I think they’re just happy I’m home all the time.”

They passed through the gates of the school – a tall, iron arch with the Liverbird perched on top. Finns looked up. He’d forgotten how beautiful that entryway was. It had long been forgotten when it became a part of the everyday. “I’m going to miss this place,” he said.

Daniel felt the gloom clouding over him again. When he wasn’t wallowing in denial over his break-up with Fernando, he was dreading his separation from Finns. “Do you really have to go?”

It was a pointless question. Finns didn’t bother answering it. His bags were packed, his flight was booked, his apartment was paid for, his college application confirmed.

The two boys explored the campus, Finns leading the way. He wanted to see the school before he left. They started with the freshman wing.

Finns nudged his best friend who had retreated into silence again. “Do you remember your first year here? If people think you’re a short-tempered, irreverent asshole now, they should have seen you then.”

Daniel let out his first real laugh in days. “I wasn’t that bad.”

“Red cards, cut classes, locker room fights…” Finns ticked them off one by one.

Daniel held up his hands and conceded. He wasn’t naturally a social person, and his strong personality made it even more difficult for him to meet new people. He got into the squad because he had a scholarship, but his teammates made it a point to stay away from him. He wasn’t invited to birthday parties or post-match dinners. The animosity was fine with him – _he didn’t need their approval_ – but he was still relieved when he started to make friends with Finns, a fellow defender, two lockers away from him in the changing room.

It started with perfunctory tactical discussions which turned into incidental conversations like, “Have you got any more tape left?” or “Have you seen my right shinpad?” Afterwards, Finns started inviting him to the team get-togethers. The others still walked on glass around him, but Finns acted as the mediator. He gradually gained friends in the squad, but Finns remained the first, closest and most important one.

“I don’t know what I would do without you here,” Daniel said.

Their footsteps echoed along the empty hallways. Finns let his hand run over the banks of lockers. “You’ll do just fine.”

“Who am I going to talk to? Who will I go out with?”

“You have other friends.”

Daniel scowled. He spent every day with 25 other boys in the squad – half of them he ignored, a handful of them he disliked, and only a select few he considered true friends. Even in that small group, he wouldn’t invite any of them to dinners or movies where they could hang out just the two of them.

“Nobody understands me like you do.”

Finns smiled. Back then, it felt like a burden being the only one who got Daniel – his moods, his values, his way of life. He always had to explain Daniel to the others, apologise for him when he offended them and lecture him when he did something wrong. But now, he took it as a privilege. 

“The universe abhors a vacuum. You’ll find someone else to take my place.”

They passed the cafeteria and for once, it was empty and smelled like disinfectant. They went out into the courtyard where the football players always took their lunch. The blackboards and erasers were laid out in the grass, freshly-washed and ready to dry.

“I’m going to miss you, you know,” Daniel said. His tone was casual and even. He spoke with no affection, only bare-faced honesty.

“I’m probably going to miss you more,” Finns answered because it was true. He loved Daniel more, he was more invested in their relationship, and he was going to be worse off than him when they separate. It was the nature of their relationship.

They found their way to the library and rested on the steps, just like they always did after school when training let out early and the sky hadn’t grown too dark. The library was built on a hill and it offered an expansive view of the campus.

Daniel picked up a pebble and tossed it from one hand to another. “Finns, do you think we missed out on each other?”

Finns almost fell down the stairs at the question. “Why would you ask that?”

“They say that hindsight is 20/20.”

Finns carefully weighed his words, trying to find the balance between what was true and what was appropriate. “We’ve had our time.”

“But you cut it short,” Daniel pointed out. He threw the pebble down the stairs, watched it bounce from one step to another before it disappeared into the bushes. “I know you wanted to focus on your studies, and I respect that because that’s important to you and your parents. But we had such a good thing going, Finns. What if it could have been you and me last year?”

Those words words, they were sweet, but Finns had come to terms with the truth a long time ago.

“You and me? Daniel, I think it was clear that all we could be was best friends with benefits. You didn’t want a relationship – not with me, not with anyone.”

“I could have tried.”

“I’m not forcing myself into a relationship with you if you don’t want it. Look how that turned out for – ”

Daniel growled before his best friend could continue. The fire reignited in his eyes. “Don’t bring him into this.”

“He is always _involved_ , whether I like it or not,” Finns snapped back.

Daniel abruptly stood up, shaking his head in exasperation. “Fuck this.” He marched down the stairs, hands balled into fists, stomping every step of the way. Finns feared Daniel was going to walk out on him.

When Daniel got to the landing, though, he stopped. He knew this conversation would be painful, but it was also long overdue.

He turned back around and returned to their perch. His expression was still dark, but his tone wasn’t accusatory when he asked Finns: “Do you take it against me that I fell in love with Fernando?”

It was the first time Finns heard Daniel freely admit that he was in love with Fernando. It sent a pang to his heart, so maybe the answer to that question was yes.

Finns didn’t expect himself to be at a loss for words. He was prepared for this confrontation. Though Daniel was still pissed, he sat back down next to his best friend and nudged him with his elbow. “Hey.”

The Irishman took a deep, shaky breath, and he wished Daniel had brought his cigarettes because he could use one right now.

“I don’t take it against you or Fernando, although I know I have acted like that sometimes,” Finns said. He started so carefully and calmly. And then, it was like he took a wrong step, his foot slipped, and he was falling into the pit of the past. His tone began to raise, and emotions started to seep into his words. “But I didn’t expect you to find someone new – someone better – so soon after we split up. It was like you didn’t even need time to move on.”

“Finns, that’s not true.”

“And you were so…” Finns hated the hitch in his voice. “ _So_ taken by him. You never felt that way about me.”

“Of course I did! You were my best friend – ”

“Your best friend and your fuck buddy. I wanted to be more than that.” Finns covered his face with his hands as if he could physically stop the words from slipping out. “I know I said we should stop – this is my fault. I wanted to take it back, but you already found someone else.”

Daniel stared at the other boy helplessly. “I… I’m sorry, Finns.”

Finns shook his head. “You don’t owe me an apology.” He hugged his legs to his body and rested his cheek on his knees.

Daniel watched his best friend physically gather himself together. Unsurely, he reached out and wrapped an arm around Finns, stroked his back to help him feel better.

Finns looked up and smiled sadly. “I’m sorry. I know I’m as much to blame for your break-up with Fernando.”

Daniel laughed. “No, you were right. I’m shit at relationships.”

“You are, but it would have helped if I was your voice of reason, not the devil on your shoulder.”

Daniel took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Maybe it didn’t work out for a reason. Maybe it’s time to move on.” He was tired of feeling so lonely. 

He was surprised to see, though, that Finns was shaking his head. Vigorously.

“What? I thought you wanted me to get out of my rut!”

“Sometimes it astounds me how you can get things so wrong.”

“Well, I have been missing my voice of reason,” Daniel winked.

Finns rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. They made a good team.

He laid it out for Daniel: “Look, as much as Fernando thinks otherwise, the truth is, you chose him over me. Sure, you’ve prioritised me once or twice but always as a friend. You never once said, ‘I’m going to stop seeing Fernando. I want to be with Finns.’ You’re just considering it now because you feel abandoned that Fernando broke up with you and that I’m leaving for university. You’re mistaking this helplessness for love.”

Daniel hung his head, unable to meet the gaze of his best friend. He was embarrassed that he was so misguided and that he was found out and that he had so much yet to understand. He listened closely to every word Finns said.

“Dan, you chose Fernando over me when I was here. You’ll choose Fernando over me even when I’m gone. There’s no question about it – he’s the one you want,” Finns said. He snickered, “You want him so terribly, it terrifies you. That’s why you can’t admit it to him or to yourself.”

He turned to the younger boy. Daniel’s posture was tense and his breathing was strained. “Are you okay?”

Daniel nodded, but there was a frown on his face. “It’s just a lot to take in.”

This was Finns’ voice of reason. Daniel’s other friends – Sami, Carra, Nicklas – they could tell him when what he did was right or wrong, how he could fix it. Finns, though, could tell him what he was doing to begin with and why he was doing it.

“So, do you think I should give it one last fight?”

“I never took you for a quitter.”

Daniel nodded again. “Okay.” He still looked stressed, but his smile was grateful. He rested his cheek on Finns’ shoulder. “What am I going to do when you’re gone?”

Finns ruffled Daniel’s hair. “You’re going to pull your head out of your ass and start doing some thinking for yourself.”

*

They had just finished one round of beer and tapas, and a nice buzz was settling upon the group of friends. Raul, though, was getting tired. They had been out almost every night the past week, and the fatigue was creeping up on him. He stifled a yawn and snuck a glance at his watch. It was only a little past midnight. Pepe was still sober and Villa hadn’t even arrived yet – it took him all night to get his hair right. Raul checked his watch again. It couldn’t be that early.

Raul pulled his seat closer to the table so he could get into the conversations. The words barely sank in. He was surprised at how dull nights could be when Fernando wasn’t around. He had travelled to Costa del Sol with his family for the weekend. It was just two nights, but the trip seemed to stretch on for longer.

Raul had thought nothing about it when Fernando told him about the vacation, but now he felt completely lost. One week together with the younger boy and Raul completely forgot what it was like when they spent one year apart.

Iker clapped a hand on Raul’s shoulder, jolting him out of his daze. “Hey, are you okay?”

Raul nodded. His cheeks burned when he realised Iker was studying him closely. How long had he been out of it? “I just feel tired tonight.”

“Let’s get you another beer.”

“No, no,” Raul said. The first beer already got him drowsy. The thought of another one made him sick. “I might head out soon.”

Carlos, who was just a few seats away, overheard them. He turned around so quickly, his curls flying everywhere. “You’re leaving? We’ve only just started!” He shouted.

Now, the entire table heard and the others erupted in protests.

“You’re getting old, Raul!” Gerard teased.

“We just ordered a platter of _jamon_!” Xavi added.

Raul winced. “Sorry, boys. It’s an early night for me tonight.”

No one made the obvious comment that Raul didn’t mind staying out before – not when he was with Fernando. Their togetherness hadn’t gone unnoticed. Everyone knew better than to bring up the issue, though. Raul, after all, was the senior in the group and the leader of the pack.

Everyone said their goodbyes albeit grudgingly. Raul relented and bought everyone their second round of drinks, and that made everyone lighten up afterwards. He was walking out of the restaurant when he realised he was being tailed. He turned around and saw that it was Pepe. He had a Cheshire cat smile on his face.

“Yes?” Raul asked nervously.

Pepe shrugged as he fell into step with Raul. “So, when’s Fernando coming back?”

Scratch that – everyone _but Pepe_ knew better than to bring up the issue.

“Tomorrow night.”

“Three days gone, huh? No wonder you look so restless.”

Raul felt the blood rushing to his face again. Had he been that obvious? But it felt pointless to lie to Pepe of all people. “It just feels like such a long time,” he admitted.

Pepe squeezed Raul’s shoulders reassuringly. “You still have a week and a half before Fernando returns to Liverpool – two weeks, even, I think.”

Raul’s anxiety took a turn for the worse. He looked almost afraid now. “Have you booked plane tickets yet?”

The goalkeeper shook his head. “We were supposed to book them a couple of days ago, but I don’t think Fernando wants to talk about leaving just yet.”

Suddenly, Raul missed Fernando even more. He combed his curls with his hands and held them back against his nape, tilting his head so he could stare at the inky black sky. His face was met by the cool night breeze. “Why does it feel like every chance Fernando and I get to be together, we’re always on borrowed time? It’s like I have to keep watching the clock, counting down the hours until he’s gone again.”

Pepe was at a loss for words. The truth was, he had gone out with Raul so he could tease him about his non-existent sex life, but the conversation had taken a different turn entirely.

He wished there was something he could say, but Raul already knew the cold, hard truth. Fernando had to leave in two weeks, maybe less. And the arrangement wasn’t going to change soon. Fernando had two more years of high school in Liverpool, while Raul was entering college in Madrid. Both of them had football careers about to take off.

Pepe wanted to make his friend feel better, but his only options were to lie to him or to patronise him. Neither option appealed to him.

Pepe was never this friend. Whenever Fernando had a problem, he let Stevie and Harry handle it. They were much better at this role. Pepe was just there for the comic relief. Fernando cried on the shoulders of other people, but when he needed to laugh, then Pepe could be there.

“I know you’re worried about Fernando leaving, but I think you should be more worried about the fact that you have no sex life to speak of.”

The comment hung awkwardly in the air and Raul stared at him in confusion. Pepe pursed his lips, wondering if it was too soon to make that joke. He had just wanted to lighten the mood. “I mean… uh…”

Suddenly, Raul burst out laughing. “Why the fuck do you know about that?!”

A wave of relief washed over Pepe. He pretended to shrug innocently.

“Has Fernando been complaining to you?” Raul demanded.

“No, no, I just stick my nose in everybody’s business.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about my sex life. The last time we talked, you also knew about the first time Fernando and I slept with each other,” Raul raised an eyebrow.

Pepe scoffed. “It’s not like I stalk you two or anything! These facts just find their way to me.”

They were still laughing and joking when they reached the corner where Raul took the bus to his neighbourhood. The two boys perched on the railings of the bus stop while waiting for the next trip.

“I admire your restraint. If that were me, sex would be the first thing I would take care of,” Pepe thought out loud. Raul was thankful they were the only ones there.

“It’s hardly restraint. Sex was the first thing we took care of last year. It was all we did before he left for Liverpool.”

“Yeah, because it’s one of the most important things you’ll miss when they go.”

“That’s true,” Raul said. “But, I guess, after a year apart, I regretted that we never got to go out on a date or talk just the two of us or spend time together with friends or with family. Those are pretty important too.”

He continued, “The sex, the intimacy… they will happen, naturally. But everything else, they take time.”

He turned to Pepe – the goalkeeper was scrutinising him closely – and he wondered how foolish he sounded. “It’s just something stupid I thought up,” he hurriedly added.

Pepe leapt off the railings and dusted off the seat of his jeans. Raul’s bus had just rounded the corner. “I don’t know if my approval is worth anything,” he said, “But I think you and Fernando would be good together. I wish you two had more than this summer together too.”

Raul was stunned. “Uh, thank you,” he managed to cough out. “That means a lot.”

Pepe shrugged like it was nothing, pushing his friend towards the waiting bus before it left without him.

*

Raul’s restlessness only grew worse on the day Fernando was supposed to return from Costa del Sol. He tried to work off the nerves by keeping himself busy. He jogged in the morning, babysat his cousins in the afternoon and took long naps in between. However, he found himself checking his phone hour in, hour out. Fernando couldn’t set an exact time for his family’s arrival, and Raul didn’t want to pester him about it either. He knew Fernando’s parents and siblings missed the boy just as much as he did.

Fernando finally messaged him a little past dinner. “Back in Madrid,” he texted. Raul was sitting on the couch with his dad watching the evening news when he received the message, and he jumped so abruptly that even his dad was jolted.

“Whoa, hold your horses!” His father shouted at him as he raced to his room for a change of clothes.

In no time, he was in Fernando’s neighbourhood. Israel answered the door for him, and he looked groggy after the long drive from the coast. Raul suddenly felt embarrassed that he was intruding on the family so late in the evening. They must all be tired.

“Hey, Raul, come in,” Israel managed a smile, although his eyelids were drooping heavily already.

“I’m sorry about dropping by, I forgot that I left some of my books here the last time and I need them for enrolment,” Raul conjured up a lie. Whether Israel believed it or not, he waved away the apology and ushered the visitor inside.

“Fernando’s probably in his room, unpacking,” he said, nodding towards the stairs.

Raul marveled at how easily he blended into the household. The family was probably so used to him in the house that they barely made a fuss about his visit.

Jose gave him a salute on his way to the kitchen to get a beer. He even asked him if he wanted one for himself. Mari Paz almost bundled him over by the staircase in her mad rush to catch the last of her soap operas on TV, while Flori walked past balancing a tall pile of laundry.

Raul took the steps two at a time, his heart pounding loudly in his chest. By the time he knocked on Fernando’s bedroom door, his hands were shaking. He felt like an addict deprived too long from his drug of choice.

Fernando opened the door. His hair was unruly and his cheeks were red from days under the sun. Raul could already imagine how warm the skin would feel under his fingers.

“Raul,” Fernando greeted, surprised. He stepped back to let his friend in. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Raul babbled, “I know, I’m sorry. You must be tired from a long trip —”

Fernando was no better, and their sentences began to stumble over each other. “I wanted to invite you over but I figured it was so late —”

“— I don’t want to disturb you or the others. I won’t be long —”

“— You can stay over if you like, I just need to clear out my things and —”

“— I just wanted to see you. I missed you so much.”

“I should really —” Fernando stopped when he realised what Raul just said. His jaw dropped and it took him several tries to get the words right. “I missed you too.”

Raul felt the anxiety that had troubled him all day dissipate instantly.

It was just like football. The nerves before a big game, they calmed the moment he stepped on the pitch. He was somewhere familiar and he knew he could trust his instincts.

It was those instincts that willed him to go forward and close the distance between him and Fernando. He was sure of himself now, just as he was sure of this time, this place, this boy. He didn’t hesitate as he took Fernando’s face in his hands, and he didn’t falter when Fernando stilled, scared. The kiss felt like a natural next step, like movement his muscles had long memorised.

Fernando pulled away after the initial shock. He studied Raul closely, like he had to ascertain this wasn’t trick of the mind. When he was sure it was real, he wrapped his arms around Raul’s neck and brought their lips together again.

If the first kiss was a statement of intent, the second kiss was a reacquaintance.

Fernando was no longer that boy he first kissed in a hotel room during a national team call-up a year ago. That boy had been skinny and shy, his hair stuck out in all directions and his lips tasted of Blistex. This boy now was taller and stronger, deliberate, _experienced_.

Fernando caught Raul’s bottom lip between his teeth. In one smooth move, he used it as leverage to deepen the liplock, slipping in his tongue in and pressing it hard against Raul’s.

Raul groaned in surprise. He broke away, cheeks red, breath slightly short. “You,” he tsked. “You’ve been up to no good in England.”

Fernando batted his eyelashes innocently, but his smile was wicked. The air turned heavy around them. Fernando twisted away from Raul’s embrace, hurriedly locking his bedroom door and then putting on some music to muffle their noise. Despite these cues, Raul stayed still.

“We don’t have to do this,” he said, hands clasped behind his back. His gaze, though, was dark and his lips red and bitten.

Fernando took Raul by the arms and tugged him forward. “You don’t have to be a gentleman all of the time,” he giggled against Raul’s lips.

Raul laughed as he let himself get dragged to bed. It wasn’t long before he took the reins. He kept Fernando still through a tight grip on his shirt. In one swift turn, he had pulled it off the boy completely. Even Fernando looked surprised at his sudden state of undress.

Raul returned Fernando’s trademark innocent smile.

The trip to the beach had given Fernando’s skin a light dusting of gold. His eyes were bright, his freckles stood out and the apples of his cheeks were rosy. Raul dragged his hands over Fernando’s body, exploring the new territory. He traced the lines of where the tan faded away, just below the waistband of the boy’s shorts.

Fernando squirmed underneath him. He clung to Raul’s shoulders tightly to anchor himself.

Raul ran the tip of his nose along Fernando’s jawline – an unspoken question, one last request for permission.

Fernando said yes by the brief tilt of his chin, the flutter in his eyelashes. He pushed up to taste Raul’s lips again.

The third kiss, that was an invitation.


	17. Yearning

This was the homestretch, the last few days. Raul was determined to make them last. He knew he couldn’t make Fernando stay, but at least he could give him something to take back to Liverpool. A little bit of Madrid.

Raul knocked on the door at 9 AM sharp. Fernando greeted him still bleary-eyed but dressed and on time.

“Surprise!” Raul held up two red and white scarves.

Fernando took a double-take. He reached out and took one of the scarves, traced its stripes and its crest. “Where are we going?”

“I have it on good knowledge that pre-season training has started.” Raul proposed, “What do you say we stake out in Majadahonda and try to get a peek, catch some players and grab autographs?”

Fernando’s heart was beating faster and faster before Raul could even finish. “Atletico!” He could only stammer incoherently. “Oh, god. Really?!”

Of course he had thought about Atletico Madrid and the Vicente Calderon when he arrived, but the regular season had ended months ago and the pre-season games hadn’t begun yet. He never considered visiting Majadahonda though. It was a long way from the heart of Madrid. He hasn’t staked out at the training centre since he was 10 years old, accompanied by his mother who had no interest in football other than to yell at his son not to stay too close to the driveway or he could get side-swept by the players’ passing cars.

Raul waved a hand in front of Fernando’s shell-shocked face. “Is that a yes?”

Fernando nodded dazedly, a foolish smile on his face as the news sank in. “I… I have to get my camera. And my autograph book!” Yes, he had an autograph book, and he kept it lovingly since the first signature he got was Kiko’s.

Raul took the scarf from Fernando’s hand and knotted it around the boy’s neck. “Go on then. I’ll wait for you here.”

Fernando stopped, narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure? Aren’t you taking a scholarship from Real Madrid for university?”

Raul winked. “That’s what the scarves are for. I’m gonna wrap my head with it so no one recognises me.”

Fernando burst out laughing, from Raul’s stupid joke and the impish grin on his face, from the excitement already coursing through his veins. It was a good thing he already wolfed down his breakfast before Raul arrived because his stomach was filling up with butterflies now.

“I’ll be quick!” He said, turning on his heel and scampering back inside the house with lightning speed.

From the kitchen, Raul heard Flori yell out. “Fernando? Is that you? Did you shut the front door? Por dios, por santo, you’re letting all the dust in!”

In just a few seconds, Fernando’s heavy footsteps were thundering back down the stairs. His mother met him by the bottom, hands on hips. “Where are you going this early?”

“I’m going to Majadahonda!” Fernando was practically bursting with glee as he flew back out to the doorstep.

Flori and Raul exchanged knowing glances, shaking their heads.

“Have a safe trip!” Flori waved as she watched the boys practically run to the bus stop, Fernando leading the way, dragging Raul along with him.

*

Studying has always been a comfort for Xabi. When he was homesick, when he was reeling from a defeat, when he was fighting with Stevie, he always turned to his studies – other than football, his academics was the one area in his life where he felt he could trust his instincts absolutely. He understood subjects with ease, his memory absorbed lectures like a sponge and his notes were clear, succinct transcripts.

Xabi, though, may have met his match in this AP Chemistry class. He’s never had to work so hard to succeed in a subject all his life. He’s always excelled in the sciences but chemistry, he realised, was barely a science and more a math, which sometimes proved to be his Achilles heel.

That the class was taught by Harry Kewell didn’t help either. When they got along, Harry was a distraction and when they fought, Harry was an even bigger distraction. As Xabi revised for his AP Chemistry finals, he realised that throughout the summer classes, he was never completely focused. He struggled to remember lessons, his notes were garbled, and he never developed a natural understanding of the language and logic of chemicals.

It was hardly the Harry’s fault, though, Xabi could admit that. It was entirely his. Somehow his judgment was always slightly impaired when it involved that boy.

He just needed to pass this one final exam and it would all be over. One final exam.

His knees were shaking as he entered the classroom. Most of the students were there already, using the last few minutes before the start of the exam to pore over their books. He gulped and made his way to his seat – the chairs were spaced metres away from each other.

Harry, who was by the blackboard listing some of the reminders for the exam, flashed him an encouraging smile as he passed.

“I’m nervous,” Xabi admitted.

Harry whispered, “Me too.”

They laughed under their breaths so they wouldn’t disturb the others.

“You’ll do great. I don’t think you would ever let a class beat you. Not even an AP class.”

“Thanks,” Xabi said, grateful. He needed to hear that. “And good luck to you too, I’m sure the exam will go well.”

Xabi sat down, much calmer now, warmth starting to spread to his fingers and toes and tips of his ears. He was ready.

*

Daniel didn’t know how he came to be Finns’ errand boy for the summer, but his best friend had a hundred and one things on his to-do list before his flight to the States so he volunteered to take on some of the tasks just to get Finns to stop bitching about them. Besides, he wanted to spend time with Finns before he left, and he needed to keep himself busy before Fernando returned. Three birds, one stone.

It was one massive motherfucking stone, though, that threatened to roll over and crush him.

“Daniel, have you dropped off my cheque at the bank yet?”

“Yes, Finns, I told you, I finished it this morning.”

“Do you think that gets credited immediately? My deadline for payment is next week.”

“Of course it does, Finns. Besides, the deadline is seven days away!”

“Are you sure? Can you check with the bank again? If my landlord doesn’t get my downpayment, he could give my flat to someone else! I’ll be homeless!”

Daniel has been to the bank more times in that day than he had ever been his entire life. He had to remind himself that these were sacrifices made out of love.

“Bank deposit confirmed!” Daniel announced as he entered Finns’ bedroom.

Finns hugged his best friend, “Thank you, thank you, thank you. You have been a lifesaver, you know that, right?” He brought Daniel to the bedside table and proudly showed a tray overflowing with burgers, chips and orange juice. “I prepared a snack for you as a reward!”

Daniel snickered, “You mean, your _helpers_ prepared a snack.”

Finns sniffed. “But I asked them to do it, which still counts.” He went back to his desk to go through his to-do list – of course it was laid out in a spreadsheet, with perfectly measured tables, color-coded by type of task and status of completion.

Daniel stuffed a burger in his mouth and immediately bit off half of it. He was starving. “How are you doing?”

Finns sighed and scrolled through his spreadsheet. “I’m making good progress, but there’s still a lot to do. I have to finish packing, enrolling, reserving my books, confirming our flights…”

Daniel clapped his best friend on the shoulder to stop him. If Finns kept thinking about all the things he needed to do, he would work himself into a nervous breakdown. “Relax.”

Finns rolled his shoulders, flexed his neck. “In a way, I’d rather be nervous about preparing to leave. It keeps me from being nervous about actually leaving.” He gazed at his bedroom, where most of his things had been packed into boxes. He couldn’t believe he had one week left before he was crossing over to the States.

“I can’t believe I’m going to be living alone in a new country,” he whispered. “I don’t even know how to do my laundry. I don’t know how to cook or clean. And school – god. I’m not even the best in my year in Anfield High. How am I going to hack it in NYU?”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Daniel hurriedly put down his plate so he could hold Finns’ clammy hands. “Stephen,” he said sternly, using his full name to get his complete attention. “No one is more ready for this than you. You’re a great student, you’re a great athlete, and you’re a great person. You deserve this opportunity.”

Finns shut his eyes and nodded. Daniel watched him take long, deep breaths before he let him go.

“Better?”

“Yes,” Finns said shakily, opening his eyes.

“Now come on, give me another assignment. Let me just finish this burger and I’ll be off,” Daniel said. “Do you want me to take care of your enrolment?”

Finns snickered. “Daniel, you know I love you, but I think we both agree that you should be limited to menial jobs like heavy-lifting and delivering cheques.”

“Go ahead, take your potshots now before you leave for good,” Daniel said with an exaggerated sigh, ketchup pooling at the corner of his lip. Finns grimaced and roughly wiped off his friend’s face with a paper towel.

After eating, Finns handed over a pile of documents to Daniel. “These are the lease papers for our flat in New York. Give these to Harry and tell him I need them signed by tomorrow.”

Daniel made a deep bow. “As you wish, m’lord.”

Finns gave him a royal wave. “You may now take your leave!”

*

Xabi checked and rechecked each and every answer he wrote down in his exam. All 90 of them. He leafed through every page, made sure there were no two sheets stuck together, made sure there was no section he didn’t see, no instruction he misinterpreted. He had to ace this.

“You can never be too sure, huh?”

Xabi looked up. Harry was making the rounds, and he was just walking past Xabi’s table. Xabi gave him a “what can you do?” smile, and Harry winked back. “Take your time.”

All the other students had passed in their work already but there was a good 45 minutes left before the end of the exam session.

After one last run-through, he finally stood up and submitted his paper. Harry accepted it and placed it in his file case with everyone else’s work.

“Congratulations. You are now free,” Harry said.

Xabi stretched and laughed deeply. He felt good about his exam. There were one or two questions where he really had no clue what to answer, but he was confident about everything else. “I can’t believe I survived this class.”

“You were always going to,” Harry said.

The Spaniard shifted his weight from foot to foot. The classroom door was wide open, he should be running out end celebrating what was left of his summer. But he found that he couldn’t move.

“Thanks for the class,” he blurted out. “I learned a lot. And I know I didn’t make it easy for you either.”

Harry cocked his head to the side. “Actually, I’ve always wondered – why did you take AP Chemistry anyway? I didn’t think it was something you would be interested in.”

“It wasn’t,” Xabi admitted. He rubbed his cheek self-consciously. “I wanted to take an AP class but I was looking for a subject that you wouldn’t likely teach. I was expecting you would take AP English or AP Calculus.”

Harry’s jaw dropped slightly, his cheeks colouring. “I… Oh.”

Xabi shrugged to show that it was fine, that was the past, he wasn’t affected anymore. But he was sure he was blushing too and he couldn’t stop rocking on his feet. The next question spilled out of his lips before he could think about it.

“When are you leaving?”

Harry looked down at his hands. “Next week.”

Xabi felt the air knocked out of him. He always thought it would be much later than that. “Next week?” He echoed.

Harry nodded.

“Is there a send-off?”

“Maybe. We haven’t really gotten around to planning anything.”

Xabi ignored the “we.” He pointed out, “At least if there’s a send-off, that means I’ll still see you again before you go. Unless… this is the last time?”

Harry racked his mind. Was Finns going to let him invite Xabi to their going-away party? If he didn’t agree to that, he wasn’t going to allow Harry to meet up with Xabi one-on-one either. “I don’t know. It seems terrifying when you put it that way.”

Xabi could feel the emotions swelling up inside him. He bit his tongue to prevent him from saying anything out of turn. “Talk to me, though, what’s your program going to be like? Have you seen your curriculum yet?” He steered the conversation away from the danger zone.

Harry’s face positively lit up. “I have, and it looks amazing! Other than the core subjects, I get to take a lot of electives so I want to specialise in sports, maybe culture too.”

“And you get to cover in no less than New York!” Xabi added.

“Yes!” Harry clasped his hands together. “God, I’m so nervous but I’m so excited too.”

“I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks.”

They glanced at each other unsurely. Their chemistry – forgive the pun – was so natural; their understanding, effortless. There were long stretches this year – and in this summer alone – when they fell into fights and they wouldn’t talk, but the way they got along, it was like they never spent some time apart.

Harry made the first move. “Take a seat,” he offered. An invitation to stay and talk.

Xabi’s smile felt like it could split his face in two. He pulled up a chair to the teacher’s table and listened to Harry talk about New York.

*

Stevie was almost skipping on his way to school. Just the thought of that made him snicker – he loathed school. His mother always had to pull him out of bed. It was a never-ending battle every morning.

The only reason why he was excited to go to Anfield High now was because he was going to surprise Xabi after his summer class.

His boyfriend had been so nervous about his finals, it was all he’d stressed about the past week. He dragged Stevie from one Starbucks branch to another where they spent their nights studying. Or at least, Xabi studied, and Stevie played Angry Birds on his iPhone. He was trying to get all three stars on each level, and he didn’t expect it to be so damn difficult.

He had planned the perfect way for them to celebrate the exam that Xabi was surely going to top: a movie, a dinner, some drinks, maybe a little something-something if they could sneak it in before Mikel arrived home that night. It had been a while since they went on a proper date.

Stevie chuckled giddily to himself and skipped faster.

*

When he saw them, it was like intruding on a private, intimate moment. Xabi and Harry were so deep in conversation, they didn’t notice him arrive. He had forgotten just how close the two were, not even as lovers but as friends.

Harry’s body language was so open. He was leaned back on his chair, his legs splayed, his hands gesturing as he talked animatedly. Xabi sat across him, his chin resting on his arms folded on the table. His eyes were wide, completely absorbed with the other boy, eager to catch every word.

Daniel knocked on the open door to announce his presence. Xabi and Harry’s instinctive reaction was to break apart, as if they had been caught doing something bad. It was a little heartbreaking. There was nothing wrong with talking to each other, especially for two people who had known each other for as long as they have. But, with all the things that have come to pass, Daniel supposed he couldn’t blame them for being wary.

“Well, hello,” Daniel greeted, entering the classroom.

Xabi was already dragging his seat back to the row of student desks. “We were just finishing up.”

“Oh no, don’t mind me,” Daniel said, smirking wryly.

Harry tried to muster a smile, but his face was ashen. “Hey, Daniel. What brings you here?”

Daniel slapped down the papers on Harry’s desk. “Your lease contract. Finns wants them signed by tomorrow.”

There was a slight pause as Xabi faltered while fixing his things. Harry’s gaze flickered briefly to him – Xabi was carelessly throwing his books inside his backpack now, his fingers kept slipping at the zipper of his pencil case. Daniel tapped Harry’s desk, calling back his attention.

“Okay, okay,” Harry said distractedly. “I’ll go through them tonight and drop them off at Finns’ house tomorrow.”

“I should go,” Xabi announced, hiking the straps of his backpack on his shoulders even before he could close the bag completely. His notebooks threatened to fall out.

Harry glanced at Daniel unsurely before he took a deep breath and asked, “You can stay? We were still talking. I have the afternoon free.”

Xabi’s face turned bright red. “No, no, I’ve probably kept you for too long as it is,” he stammered.

But Daniel knew Xabi was only turning down the offer because he was there. He couldn’t believe what he was going to say next. “Xabi, no, go on. I was just going to deliver the papers anyway. I’ll be on my way.”

Finns was not going to be happy when he heard about this, but Daniel had his reasons. In the same way that he made sure he was always available for Finns even though Fernando didn’t like it, he believed Harry and Xabi should be able to do that too. They were friends, and as long as they behaved, they should be able to say goodbye to each other properly.

Xabi was shellshocked, but he let his bag slide down to a chair.

Daniel nodded at the two and then turned on his heel to leave. He barely made it to the door before he came face to face with no one else but Stevie.

He didn’t know who was more stunned, him or the Scouser. And then he saw the surprise warp into a storm of disbelief, betrayal and anger as Stevie saw Xabi behind him, standing beside Harry.

“What’s going on here?” Stevie could hardly get the words out because he was so furious.

Daniel’s blood ran cold. He wasn’t involved in this precious little love triangle, but goosebumps still broke out over his skin at the emotion in Stevie’s voice. 

“We were just finishing the exam, Stevie,” Harry’s reply was cool, collected. Daniel had to give it to him.

“What the fuck?” Stevie spluttered. “Are you in the AP Chemistry class? Have you been together all along this entire summer?”

Xabi was useless, Daniel noted. He just stared at Stevie helplessly, the guilt written all over his face. Harry couldn’t carry this lie all by himself.

“Would you calm the fuck down, Stevie? Jesus Christ,” Daniel snapped before he knew what he was doing. “Harry’s just the proctor for the exam because Mr di Matteo’s on leave.”

Not that Mr di Matteo was a made-up name. He was a one-time substitute teacher when Daniel was a freshman, and he taught Biology which was close enough. Stevie wouldn’t be able to figure it out if he tried.

Stevie stared at him, unblinking. Daniel smiled sweetly in response. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Fuck off.” Stevie growled back. He looked at the other two for validation. Harry just glared at him, but Xabi was regaining some sentience – he was a smart boy, after all. “I didn’t know he would proctor, Stevie,” he said quietly.

Stevie looked so torn, like he wanted to believe the others but his instincts told him otherwise. “And you, what are you doing here?” He barked at Daniel.

Daniel laughed sardonically. “I didn’t know we had to report everything to you, _captain_. I was just delivering lease papers from Finns for Harry’s signature.” He took the contract from the desk and waved it around, inches from Stevie’s face. “Do you wanna go through that too just to make sure?”

Stevie swatted Daniel’s hand away, eyes blazing. Daniel took a step towards him, never one to back down from a fight, especially when it involved the Scouser. “What?” He challenged, his fists immediately clenching at his sides.

“Daniel, back off,” Xabi ordered. He went to his boyfriend and with a firm arm around the waist, pulled him a few steps back. “Stevie, let’s go.”

Stevie held up a finger in front of Daniel’s face, right between the eyes. “One day, you’re gonna get it from me.”

“Stevie, let’s go!” Xabi said, louder this time. He hauled his boyfriend out of the classroom before he could advance on the young defender. He didn’t let go of him until they were down the hallway. Stevie tore away from Xabi and growled loudly, slamming his fist against a locker. It echoed painfully in the corridor.

Xabi took a hold of Stevie’s arms and tried to hold them down the best he could, even as the other boy struggled against him. “Baby, baby, shhh,” he whispered, trying to calm Stevie down.

Stevie squeezed his eyes shut and slumped back against the bank of lockers. Xabi covered his body with his own and held him close as if he could absorb Stevie’s anger. He buried his face against his boyfriend’s neck and waited for his breathing to ease, for his chest to stop heaving.

“I’m sorry,” Stevie finally said, opening his eyes and gazing at Xabi deeply. “Daniel and Harry…”

Xabi, his heart clenching at the sight of his boyfriend apologising for a lie, shook his head. “It’s okay. Don’t let them get to you, especially Daniel. You know he’s looking for a fight.”

Stevie sighed and nodded. Xabi took his hand and pressed kisses to the knuckles that were now turning red. That made Stevie smile faintly. He caressed Xabi’s cheek. “Let’s go. I have the whole day planned for us.”

*

“What was that all about?”

Daniel accompanied Harry to the faculty room. “What was what?”

“You covering for me – twice.”

“It’s a miracle, that’s what it is. Don’t get used to it.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. Daniel and acts of charity? He’s never heard those words used in the same sentence before.

Daniel sighed and admitted, “I’m collecting good karma for when Fernando returns and my life inevitably turns to shit. God knows I’ll need it.”

Harry had to laugh. “You’re crazy… and probably right.”

They arrived at his cubicle. Harry pulled out a chair for the Dane. “You do realise that it’s not good karma, though, since you did lie to Stevie.”

“Do I look like Stevie’s number one fan?”

“Welcome to the club,” Harry rolled his eyes. He placed the exams on his desk. He had planned to grade them today but suddenly, he felt very tired.

“Would you lighten up?” Dan tsked. He took a paperweight from Harry’s desk and juggled it from one hand to another. “You and Finns are heading for the greatest adventure of your lives and you’re both acting like you’re preparing for a funeral.”

Harry frowned and snatched the paperweight in mid-air – he still had the reflexes of an athlete. He placed it back on his desk, perfectly aligned with his pencil sharpener and his paperclip holder, as Daniel muttered behind him, “Fuckin’ OCD.”

“We are happy. It’s just been a bit stressful getting there.”

Daniel’s jaw dropped. “Who are you and what have you done with Harry Kewell? Stop talking like a grandpa!” He stood up and paced the small cubicle, tapping his chin. “Have you two planned your farewell party yet? That should lighten up the mood around here.”

A party sounded like a good idea, Harry admitted. He hasn’t had a stiff drink in a while. “Finns and I talked about a send-off before but we never got around to planning one. Maybe we’ll just end up treating everyone out to pizza and beer?”

Daniel scrunched up his face in disgust. “Pizza and beer? What is this, a post-game dinner?” He clapped his hands together, “Look, I’ll organise the party if you two won’t.”

Harry almost burst out laughing until he realised the Dane wasn’t kidding. “You… will take care of it? You?”

Daniel scowled. Sure, he’s never thrown a party before. His parents never left him alone in the house long enough – and probably for good reason -- but he’s attended enough of these events to know what to do. “It’ll be easy. I’ll talk Finns into letting us use his mansion, as always. You send out the invitations since you know everyone. I’ll take care of the food and drinks.”

He added, “We won’t even have to pay for anything. I’m sure the Finnans will spare no expense. His parents are probably more excited about this whole going-to-college business than the two of you are.”

Harry, in spite of himself, was getting convinced, even though he was still a bit suspicious about Daniel. “This sounds so unlike you.”

The defender grinned. “What did I tell you? Good karma.”

*

Fernando missed Liverpool. There. He said it. He’s only been gone for a few weeks, but having limited communication with his friends, it seemed to stretch on for months. He wanted to know how Stevie was doing, or Carra or Sami or Riise. Also, Yossi and Lucas, who were always quiet in the locker room but were no doubt the nicest and kindest ones in the team. He missed Harry – he knew his roommate was probably panicking right now, preparing for the biggest move of his life. He wished he could be there for him.

He missed Daniel the most. Not just because he was away, but because he knew that even if he was in Liverpool, they still wouldn’t be together. It still felt like there was a hole in his heart and it ached in its emptiness. He wondered if Daniel missed him too.

But.

He looked around at his friends. He missed these people too – fervently. Pepe was singing at the top of his lungs while Iker happily plied him with alcohol. Gerard was picking on the little ones today. He could afford to do that because he got his growth spurt last year, but Andres, Xavi, Silva and Villa weren’t as lucky. Villa bitched back at the Catalan, but the other three just laughed it off.

And Raul – best of all, Raul – was with him.

Maybe, Fernando thought, maybe he belonged here.

“Fernando Torres! La la la la la la!” Pepe sang his name in a made-up tune that actually carried quite well. “You have not been drinking,” he wagged his finger sternly.

The group were perched on the ledge of an old bridge, long closed off to vehicles. It had since been used as a watering hole by students, drinking alcohol from the convenience store around the corner to get an early buzz before heading out to the clubs. Tonight, the drinks were two bottles of Coke and one bottle of expensive scotch that they all grudgingly pitched in to buy. They shared three plastic cups among them.

Pepe snatched one of the cups Gerard was sipping from and thrust it at Fernando. “Drink up, young man!”

Fernando obediently took a huge gulp. God knows just how many people have drunk from that cup, but he figured maybe the alcohol could kill the bacteria.

Satisfied, Pepe bounced away. Raul, though, wasn’t as easily convinced. He squeezed the blonde’s knee, “Are you okay? You’ve been quiet.”

Fernando nodded, observing his friends – people that he grew up with. He smiled contentedly, “I’m just happy to be home.”

Raul smiled too. “I’ll drink to that.” He motioned at Iker, who immediately took one of the free cups and poured his captain some alcohol. They made a small toast, the cheap plastic cups nearly crumpling in their hands, and drank up.

Fernando watched Raul as he licked the last of the alcohol from his lips, his eyes momentarily glassy from the sting of the scotch. He moved closer to him on the ledge until their legs and shoulders were pressed against each other’s. Raul raised an eyebrow, not because he didn’t know what Fernando wanted but because he knew he couldn’t give it. Not here on a public bridge, with so many strangers milling around.

There would be more opportunities later on, though. The night, it was like a slow burn. Fernando didn’t notice the temperature turning up until it had gotten too hot.

The first stop in the bar crawl was Caprese, for the simple reason that it served 20 shots for €15, aka Pepe wanted them to get drunk as efficiently as possible. It was nothing more than a kiosk on a street corner – no chairs, no tables, no lights, no music. With only a counter attended by a waiter and a cashier, it was under no pretence that it was nothing more than an express alcohol stop.

They took shots in pairs. Pepe and Raul led the way, knocking back the alcohol with professional ease. As Fernando fell in line with Iker, he could feel Raul’s eyes on him the entire time. He made no secret about it either. Fernando caught his gaze as he prepared to take his shot, and Raul never looked away. He watched avidly, and Fernando drank his shot with a flourish, just to make Raul’s view worthwhile. He smiled coyly at the older boy as he wiped the corner of his mouth after.

They stumbled to Helipad after since the boys wanted to meet girls and dance. Fernando had no interest in either but he was tipsy enough to be yanked to the dance floor anyway. Raul kept at his side, his arm sometimes straying around Fernando’s shoulders from time to time, but they played it cool as much as they could. It was just past midnight and the club wasn’t jam-packed yet.

When more people surged to the dance floor and you couldn’t tell one body from the other, Fernando felt Raul’s arm move to his waist, wrapping around his body, firmly now and for good. Fernando relaxed back against Raul’s chest and they swayed slowly to the lazy rhythm of the bass.

That was how Pepe found them as he pushed through the mob to round up his friends. He guffawed as he saw Raul and Fernando closely intertwined.

“I love you both, you know that,” Pepe cooed drunkenly. He planted a big, wet smack on Fernando’s cheek and then Raul’s.

You just know someone’s drunk when they proclaim to love everyone.

“Come on, we’re moving. You can continue that there!” Pepe yelled so he could be heard over the music. Raul and Fernando hesitantly pulled apart and followed their friends out.

Pepe was already running down the street, his arms held out at his sides like he was an airplane, zipping from one side of the sidewalk to another. Xavi and Iker were just behind him, cackling hysterically as they ran. Fernando laughed along with his friends. He was about to launch into a sprint to catch up with them – he could do it, he was drunk enough and fast enough to overtake them all -- but he felt Raul hook a finger in his belt loop and keep him back.

“Uh-uh, you’re staying here,” Raul whispered against the shell of his ear. Fernando could feel his lover half-hard behind him. “You have to hide me.”

A shiver ran down Fernando’s spine, and he moaned to himself in anticipation.

Azucar was their final stop, a dance club that had just opened a few weeks ago. By the time they got in, the party was in full swing. The club was pitch-dark save for some guide lights by the stairs and lasers by the dance floor.

Fernando didn’t know if they all got separated or he was just too far gone already, the alcohol and the blinding lights giving him this unnatural high, but he could barely recognise anyone around him. That was good, though. Because Raul’s hands were wandering all over his body, slipping from his nape to his shoulders, then to his hips, all the way down to his waist. That couldn’t be platonic.

With one hand, Fernando reached back and grabbed at Raul’s jacket to keep the older boy pressed flush against him. His other hand played with Raul’s hair – his fingers tugged at the curls with a little too much force every time Raul grinded their bodies together.

It was less of dancing and more of rubbing against each other in desperate need for friction. Fernando could feel Raul’s excitement digging against him from behind. He rolled his body back to tease him, eliciting a surprised, breathless chuckle from the older boy. Fernando dropped his head back on Raul’s shoulder, and Raul sneaked a kiss to his neck.

Fernando was getting just as aroused. He wanted Raul to touch him so badly – hell, he wanted to touch himself so badly. He spun around in the older boy’s arms, and by the subtle parting of Raul’s lips, he knew that his lover felt the hardness against his thigh. Using his body as a shield, he coaxed Raul’s hand down his front, the captain readily responding and palming at Fernando’s erection through his jeans.

“Are we leaving yet?” Fernando groaned through gritted teeth. Raul couldn’t have heard him through the noise of the party, but he has seen that come-hither look one too many times. Besides, Raul was sensible – even though he didn’t want to leave their friends behind, he knew that if they stayed, they would only get into trouble at the rate they were going.

“Come on,” Raul mouthed. He took Fernando’s hand as they threaded their way through the thickening crowd.

Raul’s house was much nearer, so they head there instead. The cab ride took all of 15 minutes but it was an agonising wait nevertheless. Fernando kept his legs crossed tightly to distract himself from the throbbing in his cock.

They managed to creep up to Raul’s room without waking anyone in the house. Once they were behind closed doors, all the urgency back at the club was forgotten. Fernando didn’t know why, but he expected them to take it slow. They always did. That was how their sex was – easy, languorous, thorough.

Fernando eased off his jacket and massaged his shoulders. “What a long day,” he murmured, pressing his fingers against the sore muscles in his back.

He didn’t get a response. He spun around; Raul had his condoms in his hands and was walking towards him.

“Did you text the others that we went ahead…”

Raul silenced him with a fierce kiss. It took Fernando by such surprise that he stumbled back one or two steps, and he had to grab on to the other boy’s arms to steady himself.

“What…” Fernando pulled away. He could feel Raul smirk against his lips and his response was another deep kiss. Raul’s tongue slipped into his mouth, eager to taste, swallowing all of Fernando’s protests.

Fernando’s head spun and not just because of the alcohol. He felt around for the bed – they’ve never done it in Raul’s room before – but it was far away. Raul walked them to the desk instead, only a couple of steps to the side.

Fernando could barely process what was happening, but Raul was bracing him against the table already. A few more confused blinks and his belt was undone. He watched stupidly as Raul pushed down his jeans just low enough to take out his cock. Then he dropped to his knees soundlessly.

The realisation hit Fernando just a split-second before Raul’s mouth engulfed his member. He groaned, his body shaking violently at the unexpected sensation. The room was dark and there was barely enough moonlight filtering in through the blinds, so it was difficult for Fernando to see what his lover was doing. He could only wait for it to actually happen. Like the tongue that was now teasing his head or the fingernails that lightly scratched at his length.

Fernando cried out, trying to move away from the assault. He was backed up against the desk, though, so he had nowhere to go. Raul held his hips down to stop him from squirming. “Shhh,” he murmured.

“If you could just warn me,” Fernando hissed. Raul’s eyes were gleaming – he was enjoying this, Fernando’s inability to control himself. He sucked at the younger boy’s cock again, this time taking him inch by inch, as far as he could swallow. Fernando practically crumpled against the table, boneless and quivering.

As suddenly as he started, Raul stopped. Fernando tried to use the break to catch his breath because he felt like he’d been thrashed around and used up, and it’s only been half a blowjob. Raul, though, had other plans. He turned Fernando around and bent him over the desk.

Raul littered kisses across Fernando’s shoulder. The blonde turned to look at him, and Raul raised his eyebrows in a silent request for permission. Fernando nodded because _yes, so much yes_. Raul smiled, tucked a stray lock of hair behind Fernando’s ear and kissed him.

He made quick work of preparing Fernando. He’d barely eased in two fingers, and he was already lining up his cock against Fernando’s entrance. The younger boy didn’t care though. He was the more impatient of the two of them; his hand was already squeezing his own member, slick with pre-cum and saliva. It still burned, though, when Raul sliced into him in one single motion. He exhaled his whimper against the cool wood of the desk.

Raul was fucking him differently today, he could tell, and it turned him on to no end. His cock was leaking profusely in his hands.

Raul’s thrusts were sharp, driving Fernando against the desk, the edge of the table digging into his thighs. Even Raul’s pace was erratic and after a few slow rounds, he was soon pistoning in and out of Fernando madly. Even his breathing was unmeasured. Raul gasped for air as he furiously rammed his cock against the blonde. Fernando was so hot and tight against him, it whited out his vision, and for a few moments, he was just consumed by an almost animalistic need for release.

He came hard, biting down on Fernando’s shoulder to keep himself from yelling out. The orgasm racked through his body, and he kept fucking Fernando even after he finished coming. Fernando jacked himself off frenziedly. Raul snuck a hand between his lover’s legs and fondled his sac. Fernando’s entire body jumped in shock.

“God, keep doing that,” he keened, curling his back so his lover could touch him even more. Raul obediently explored, playing with the younger boy, and he swore, Fernando’s knuckles turned white as his fingers curled around the edge of the desk. Fernando hit his climax without warning, moaning hungrily, his come splattering against his hand and his thighs.

Raul collapsed on his desk chair. He took the slumped, heaving body of Fernando and made him sit on his lap. Their clothes, sticky with sweat, clung to their bodies.

Pressing a small kiss on Fernando’s neck, Raul asked, “Shower or bed?”

“Give me a few minutes,” Fernando said, his voice hoarse and his gaze unfocused. His hand on Raul’s knee, though, was assured. “But I think we should do the shower… and then the bed.”


	18. You've got your ball, you've got your chain

_**Finns and Harry’s Send-Off**  
Invite-Only_

_Say goodbye to the people you will miss the most in high school!_

_Saturday, from 9 PM until the alcohol runs out which is unlikely  
Finnan Residence, 5 Three Acres Close, Woolton, Liverpool_

*

Xabi was surprised to see the invitation when he opened his Facebook. First, he was invited? Second, _Finns and Harry’s send-off_? A conjugal party, like a real couple?

Third, _the people you will miss the most_? He could understand that maybe Harry would be well missed, since he was an Anfield High poster boy. He was popular, he was a heartthrob, he was in a handful of student organizations, and he was loved by his teachers. But Finns? Finns was quiet and not even that good-looking. He did well in school but he never excelled like Xabi. The only reason why he was popular was because he was on the football team and he was filthy rich so he could afford to host all the parties he wanted.

Xabi went through the event details. The entire football team was invited.

Hesitantly, he called Stevie up. He wanted to attend the party, but he didn’t want to risk keeping it a secret from his boyfriend, especially not after the last incident in school.

“Good morning, love,” Stevie greeted when he picked up. Xabi took that as a good sign – Stevie was in a good mood.

“Hey there,” Xabi replied. For a moment, he considered asking him straight out if they could go to the send-off. However, he chickened out before he could say anything. “What are we doing this Saturday?” he asked instead. Maybe Stevie hadn’t seen the invite yet, and he could tell him it was Finns’ party?

There was a pregnant pause. “I don’t know. Why?”

Xabi sat up straighter in his chair like he was preparing himself for graded recitation. “Oh, I was just curious.”

There was another stretch of silence that made Xabi anxious. Stevie knew. Just by the lulls in the conversation, Xabi knew that Stevie knew.

“How about we drive out of town, make the most of the sun, yeah? I can borrow the car from Pops. We can head to Manchester.”

The normal reaction to that would have been a yes, a resounding one, an excited one. Not a deadbeat “Oh.”

Stevie knew something was up too. “Why? Did you have something else in mind?” he pressed.

Xabi backtracked and tried to strike a compromise. “You’re right, we should make the most out of the sun. How about we drive out during the day and at night…” he faltered for a second, “Harry and Finns are throwing a farewell party. We should go.”

Stevie thought for a long while before responding. This was becoming such a stilted conversation. “I really wanted us to spend the day just the two of us.”

What irked Xabi wasn’t so much that Stevie said no – he half-expected that – but the roundabout way that he was saying it. “We will be together the entire day. Even during the party, if you want.”

“But why go to a party when we can just spend the night together? We can go to a nice restaurant for dinner or if you want to drink, I know this new pub…”

Xabi was thankful that Stevie couldn’t see him roll his eyes. They could go on a road trip any other day.

Stevie stopped when he sensed Xabi had tuned off. “Or if you don’t want to spend some time with me, that’s fine.”

Xabi’s jaw dropped. “Stevie, I didn’t say that. Stop making a big deal out of this.”

“I’m making it into a big deal? You’re the one who’s making a strop out of not being able to go to a stupid party.”

“All our friends are going to that stupid party.”

“So?”

Xabi groaned, frustrated at Stevie’s petulance. “Why do you want to skip this? Finns and Harry are our friends.”

“Harry is not my friend,” Stevie pointed out. “And… Finns will understand.”

“I hope he does cos I surely don’t.”

He should have foreseen that Stevie wouldn’t appreciate being made the guilty party. After all, it was so easy for his boyfriend to turn the tables.

“Well, why do you want to go so badly?”

Xabi wished there was a ready answer to that. He wasn’t keeping it from Stevie – he didn’t know the answer himself. Why did he want to go? To say goodbye? Face to face? Would Harry listen? Would Finns let him?

“Am I not allowed to?”

“Frankly, I don’t want you to have anything to do with them.”

“That’s unfair.”

“Can you blame me?”

 _No. No, he couldn’t._ Xabi went for reason this time. “I can’t change my history with Harry, but he’s still my friend. I’m trying to earn your trust back by being honest: I want to go to their send-off so I can say goodbye, like everyone else. And I want you there with me.”

Stevie didn’t even consider it. “No,” he said flatly.

Xabi bit his tongue before he could snap at his boyfriend. This was a lost cause – at least for now. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

“I’ll see you on Saturday,” he said. He hung up without waiting for Stevie’s response.

*

The dressing room was filling up slowly as the international students returned from vacation, Daniel noticed. Pre-season training got busier and busier too. Lucas and Masch were the latest arrivals, jetlagged as fuck after a long plane ride from South America. Yossi returned earlier that week from Israel. The only empty places in the locker room, actually, were the students that made the short trip to continental Europe. Dirk and Ryan had gone back home to Holland, while Pepe and Fernando were still in Spain.

Fernando’s absence, in particular, was painfully obvious for Daniel. He had learned to ignore it for some time now as he was occupied organising the party for Harry and Finns. The closer it got to enrolment and the school year, though, it started creeping into his mind again.

After training that day, Daniel found himself heading to the dormitories, making up some lame excuse to talk to Harry. He had come to know that place so well this past year. He recognised the residents, and the dorm monitor -- after countless arguments -- now let him in without making him sign the visitor's logbook.

He made his way up to Room A311 on the third floor, and his skin began to tingle just being there again.

Oddly enough, Fernando and Harry were on a very quiet floor. Dormers always said, there’s always that one noisy room in every floor. If you didn't find anyone noisy, chances are, you were the noisy room. Fernando and Harry were probably that room. Just all of Fernando’s whining, coupled with all the boys and girls Harry took home to “study” – Daniel snickered. The neighbouring rooms probably hated them.

Daniel rapped his knuckles against the door. He let himself grin wistfully at the idea of Fernando suddenly opening the door, like he had arrived last night and didn’t tell anyone. And he would be taken aback that Daniel was there and how did he find out he was back, and then Daniel would confess to how much he missed him.

“Fucking hell, Daniel Agger, you’re losing your mind,” he scolded himself.

The door opened, and it wasn’t Fernando, of course. Daniel didn’t have time to feel disappointed though, because he was more confused as to who this new person was.

“Can I help you?” The boy asked.

Daniel glanced at the address again. Room A311, just like always. “Who are you?” he couldn’t help but demand.

The boy frowned at the visitor. His look was fearsome, with his strong jaw and shaved head. “This is my room. Who are you?” he asked back.

Daniel’s jaw dropped. There were too many thoughts zooming through his mind, he couldn’t articulate them all at once. “What? This can’t be your room. This room is occupied.”

“No, there was a vacancy.”

Daniel felt his knees buckle. A vacancy?

“I don’t believe this.” he muttered. He tried to enter the room to look for someone he knew, but Martin blocked his way. “Where’s Harry?” Daniel was getting a little frantic. Harry would be able to explain all of this. “Harry Kewell, do you know him? Brown hair, a little shorter than you, talks like the Crocodile Hunter?”

Martin just eyed him suspiciously, his hand tightened around the edge of the door as if preparing to shut it in case Daniel got dangerous.

“Harry!” Daniel called out again.

The Australian finally emerged from the bathroom, half of his face still covered in shaving cream. “Hey, hey, hey, what in the world is happening here?”

A wave of relief washed over Daniel. “Oh, thank god, Harry.” He pushed past Martin and into the room. “What’s happening? Who is this?” He jutted his thumb at Martin as if he weren’t there.

“I don’t know who this is, he just barged in,” Martin countered.

Harry held up his hands to silence the two bickering boys. “Let’s keep it down, alright?” He motioned at Martin, “Daniel, this is Martin Skrtel. He’s going to take my place once I leave.”

Daniel was unsure. “You mean…”

“He’ll be Fernando’s new roommate.”

Daniel breathed a huge sigh of relief and let himself sit down on Fernando’s bed. “Oh, thank you, sweet baby Jesus.”

Harry laughed and pointed at Daniel. “Martin, this is Daniel Agger. I… don’t really know how to explain him.”

Daniel raised his hand. “I am a friend of the world.”

Martin was not impressed.

Harry ambled back into the bathroom so he could continue shaving. “Oh, but Daniel is also on the football team. You see, Martin here is on a football scholarship.” There were soft clinks as Harry tapped his razor against the sink to get the foam out of the blades. “And you two have to start getting along with each other since you’re both defenders.”

Martin and Daniel grudgingly side-eyed each other and nodded in acknowledgement.

“You’re replacing Sami Hyypia, by the way. So you should know that you’re filling in very big boots,” Daniel said.

Whether that was an innocent remark or a gauntlet thrown down, Martin didn’t let it ruffle him. He just half-shrugged to no one in particular, not even bothering to glance at the other boy. Daniel bristled, but he couldn’t say he was surprised. He hasn’t met a central defender that wasn’t an arrogant bastard. It was a necessary ingredient in the recipe for success.

Harry finished shaving and headed for the dresser, taking out his aftershave and then his moisturizer. Daniel was amazed at how complex his beauty regimen was. “Why were you so freaked out anyway, Dan? Was Martin impolite? What did you do to him, Martin?”

Martin scoffed. “He started it.”

“Mature,” Daniel answered back.

“Anyway,” Harry said loudly to cut the two off. “What brings you here?”

The truth was, Daniel had been feeling lonely all day and he just wanted someone to talk to. He wasn’t going to admit that in front of the new boy, though.

“Can you bring your iPod to the party? Finns has shit music.”

“You came all the way here for that?”

Daniel pursed his lips and shrugged up at Harry.

Taking the hint, Martin stood up with a loud sigh. “I should go. My parents and I are meeting Rafa and his staff. Thanks for showing me the room, Harry.” He didn’t acknowledge Daniel as he made for the door.

Once he’d left, the Dane turned to Harry, “He knows he’s just here as cover, right? I’m taking Sami’s place in the starting line-up.”

“Daniel, you haven’t even seen him play.”

“I don’t care how he plays, I’m going to be better and he’s going to be shut out. Maybe he’ll play when Carra needs a rest.”

Harry didn’t press the issue. Clearly, the two had gotten off on the wrong foot. Worse, Daniel and Martin seemed to be as headstrong as each other, so it didn’t look like things were going to get better between them any time soon. _Whatever_ , Harry thought. He was leaving and he wouldn’t have to worry about this anymore.

“Now, what’s really bothering you?” Harry asked, perching on his bed to face the other boy.

“I was so scared Martin was going to be Fernando’s replacement.”

Harry’s expression softened – nothing could trigger an instant meltdown from Daniel quite like the Spaniard. “You’re just being paranoid. Of course Fernando’s going to be back for the coming school year.”

“Has he told you that?”

“No, but he has a scholarship here.”

“That’s not ironclad.”

“Come on, Dan, he can’t just disappear on the school and the team.”

Daniel glared at Harry pointedly. The Australian had to relent. Fernando’s absence was already strange for him, especially since they had little to no communication after an entire year of companionship. It must be especially hard for Daniel, though, since it was kept secret from him.

“He’s going to come back,” Harry assured.

Daniel bit his lip anxiously. “I was wondering, has he confirmed to your invitation to the send-off yet? Fernando wouldn’t miss that.”

“Not yet,” Harry admitted. 

Daniel’s face fell. “But, he knows you’re leaving soon. He wouldn’t let you leave without seeing you.”

Harry felt like Fernando wouldn’t too, but he didn’t want to give Daniel promises since it seemed he was ready to cling to them blindly.

“There’s still a day after the party before I leave,” Harry reasoned out instead. “And there’s late enrolment too.”

But Daniel was inconsolable. He lay down on Fernando’s bed and Harry didn’t miss the way he rubbed his cheek against the sheets. Harry set next to him and squeezed his arm comfortingly, “Once I get word from Fernando, I’ll tell you immediately.”

*

Fernando woke up in a bedroom that wasn’t his but one he was increasingly becoming familiar with. He sat up carefully, making sure the mattress wouldn’t shift much and wake Raul. He took a shower and got dressed as quietly as he could.

He had just finished getting ready when Raul finally stirred. He opened one eye, and Fernando saw the instinctive way he stretched out to check if his lover was still in bed beside him. 

“Over here,” Fernando said, grinning.

Raul rubbed his eyes, “Good morning.”

“Good evening, actually. I have to get home soon since I have a family dinner,” Fernando said. “Get dressed, your parents are probably wondering why you’ve been cooped up here all day too.”

Raul nodded and sluggishly sat up, the sheets pooled around his waist.

“You look fetching,” Fernando teased.

“But not fetching enough for you to come back to bed.”

Fernando laughed, climbing onto the bed and pressing a kiss to Raul’s sweaty forehead. “You can have me again tomorrow.”

“Gladly,” Raul stole another kiss before Fernando stood back up. He scratched his stomach absent-mindedly and yawned, “When is your flight, by the way?”

Fernando froze on the way to the dresser, the mirth in his eyes suddenly replaced by panic. “Why?”

Raul, still half a step too slow, tilted his head, confused. “I’m just asking. Pepe is leaving tonight, isn’t he?”

Fernando was suddenly fascinated with fixing his hair. “I haven’t really booked a flight yet.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I haven’t gotten around to it.”

He saw Raul approaching from his reflection on the mirror.

“Fernando?” Raul prodded. He wasn’t buying these excuses. You don’t just forget to go back to school, even if that school was a two-hour plane ride away.

Fernando squeezed some of Raul’s gel in his hands and heated it between his palms. “I was thinking maybe I could stay here,” he said nonchalantly. He began to style his hair like they weren’t in the middle of an important conversation.

Raul’s eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. He was completely awake now. He took Fernando by the waist so the boy faced him. “Are you serious? You can’t do that.”

“Why not? Madrid is my home. Why can’t I stay here?”

“You know why. You have a contract with Liverpool.”

“Which I can void.”

“And when you void it, you have to pay back all the tuition and stipend that the school shouldered. That’s a lot of money, Fernando.”

The younger boy just crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Raul sullenly.

“Look, whatever problems you had in Liverpool, running away from them won’t solve anything.”

Fernando burst out. “I’m not running away from anything!” He pushed away from Raul and gathered his things. “I just want to stay in Spain, why is that so difficult to believe? I miss my family, I miss my friends, and I miss you. I miss my life here.”

“You knew what you were giving up when you decided to sign for Liverpool. It took you months to consider that offer, and you took it in the end because you knew the transfer was good for you.”

“Well, what if it wasn’t?”

Raul sighed. “I’m sorry, Fernando. I know you’re homesick, but you can’t stay here. I won’t let you.”

Fernando laughed sardonically. “That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t want me to stay.”

Raul was not ready for this new attack. “What are you talking about?”

“This is just a summer fling for you, right? It’s brilliant, it’s perfect for a couple of months but nothing more than that,” the blonde accused. “That’s why you can afford to be sweet and caring and committed because you know it’s nothing permanent.”

“You’re crazy! Will you listen to yourself right now?”

“You want me to leave! You’ve had your fun and games, so before it gets messy, let’s ship this boy back to Liverpool. Besides, you have university soon and you can’t be held back from that.”

Raul’s expression turned cold. For a brief moment, doubt flickered on Fernando’s face – recognition that he may have taken this a step too far.

“Is that how low you think of me?”

“Then, what else is it if it’s not that?” Fernando challenged, although with much less conviction than before.

Raul shook his head in disbelief. He walked to his door and held it open for the younger boy.

“Are you kicking me out?” Fernando demanded, but his anger was laced with desperation.

“Go home, Fernando,” Raul’s order was steely. “Once you’ve calmed down, then you can come back to talk to me.”

*

“Well, fuck.” Finns looked out of his bedroom window at the grey, grey sky. “What are the chances that we’re going to get rain in the middle of summer?”

“This is Liverpool after all,” Daniel said, squeezing next to his best friend by the window sill.

“One whole week of scorching hot weather and then on the day of my party, it looks like rain.”

“Maybe it’s just a cloudy day.”

A sudden clap of thunder and the two boys jumped in surprise. Finns glared at Daniel. “You had to jinx it?”

Daniel smiled sheepishly. “It shouldn’t be so much of a problem. We can always move the buffet and the bar inside.”

Finns knew that their dining room and living room could easily accommodate the party. He just didn’t appreciate sudden changes in plans. He had enough problems to deal with as it was, namely: his boyfriend still busy with grading exams and completing paperwork to focus on packing and preparing for their departure; his landlord in New York not being able to understand his accent; his mother going through his luggage and adding more and more things including the kitchen sink; and now, this.

“What if people decide not to go the party anymore?” Finns whispered. He was never the most popular member of the football team, much less the entire school. It was a deeply held insecurity – one he wouldn’t admit if it wasn’t Daniel he was talking to. “Maybe I should just cancel this entire thing, have a small get-together with our teammates instead. That would be more manageable.”

Daniel’s jaw dropped. “What! Stephen!” Finns cringed at the use of his first name – no one ever used it other than his mum. His best friend shook his head firmly, “We are not cancelling. There’s going to be so many people tonight, we won’t be able to cram them inside your house.”

“I have a pretty big house.”

“It will be packed nevertheless,” Daniel assured. “Now, cheer up. This party is supposed to be for you, so stop acting like you’re headed for a funeral.”

* 

The tension in the room was suffocating. Stevie and Xabi had been together for so long, they had forgotten how to deal with awkwardness. Things didn’t end so well the last time they talked, and that issue hung over them still.

“So,” Stevie whistled. “It looks like we can’t go on a road trip after all.”

It had only been drizzling when he left to fetch Xabi, but by the time he got to his boyfriend’s house, the rain was pouring in sheets, making it impossible to drive, much less for a beginner like him.

Stevie eyed his boyfriend for some sign that he was relieved that their date had been cancelled. Maybe Xabi would bring up Harry and Finns’ party again.

But, Xabi just shrugged, “Maybe we can wait it out.” He turned up the volume of the television, tuned into the local news. “They say it’s not a storm, which is good. It’s just a low pressure area.”

Whatever that meant, Stevie didn’t think the rain was going to let up soon. The clouds were dark and heavy, and rain in Liverpool could last all day. “Why bother? It’s hopeless,” he muttered, stomping to the television and switching it off. He had been so looking forward to this trip with Xabi. He had all the routes planned out, and his CDs were already loaded in the car radio. It was just his luck that the storm – no, the _low pressure area_ – hit today of all days.

“Hey,” Xabi sidled up to him and sensing Stevie’s irritation, he wrapped his arms around his shoulders comfortingly. “You’re here now anyway. We can make the most out of this.” He took Stevie’s hands and placed kisses on the open palms and the wrists, coaxing and… and apologetic. Stevie couldn’t quite understand why it felt like Xabi was saying sorry, but he didn’t like it.

Xabi took him up to his bedroom and they began the well-rehearsed dance: the kisses, the touches, the clothes that fell to the floor and the squeaks of the mattress. Their hands intertwined as they rocked together, and their breaths mingled when they finally came.

It was as good as sex could get. Stevie didn’t know anything else about sex other than the way he had it with Xabi.

But something was different today. The thing about sex was that it left you with no place to hide, physically or emotionally. This time, Stevie made love to Xabi with an edge of jealousy, a belief that he’d been wronged and a desire to settle the score. It was evident in the flame in his eyes, the angry snap of his hips.

Xabi was… He was present and wanting and Stevie did not doubt that he loved him. But at the fringes, during lulls, he was also distracted and confused and guilty.

“Are you hiding something from me?” The question dropped just moments after Stevie and Xabi both hit their climax. Xabi’s eyes were still grey and clouded over, his breath choppy as he asked, “What?”

“I said, are you hiding something from me?”

Xabi rolled on his side so that they were face to face. He seemed more ready for this than he let on. “What do you want to know?”

That must have been the answer already. What it confirmed, Stevie didn’t know exactly, and he didn’t want to know either. 

His body was numb all of a sudden, and not from the sex or the cold in the air. It wasn’t anger that he felt, though. Not even hurt.

Maybe betrayal, like most things, were less painful the second time around.

They were quiet for a long, long time. The rain raged on outside, and they lay side by side in bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Do you know what today feels like? It feels exactly like that day when we finally made up last year. Do you remember that?”

There was a soft, wistful smile on Xabi’s face. Stevie knew without having to look at him. “That day you forgave me for cheating on you with Harry.”

“We got caught in a storm. You walked me to the bus stop.”

“No, you walked me home.”

“Force of habit.”

Xabi sighed, hugged a pillow to himself. “I didn’t think I could miss anyone that badly. Those days when you left me, Stevie, those were the worst in my life.” He turned to his lover, seeking a promise he knew he didn’t deserve, “I never want that to happen again.”

The Scouser could not begrudge Xabi anything – he loved him so much. “Me too.” He looked down and for once, the mighty Steven Gerrard doubted himself. “Sometimes, I’m just scared it will all happen again.”

Xabi had always loved that he was the only one who could make Stevie stop in his tracks and second-guess himself. But not like this. “It won’t happen again,” he spoke with as much conviction as he could pour into his words. “I don’t want to be with anyone else but you.”

Stevie nodded, appeased. Xabi leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Before he could pull away, though, his boyfriend cupped his face and asked in all seriousness, “Do you really want to go to Harry and Finns’ party?”

Xabi’s jaw dropped slightly. The answer was yes, he’s told Stevie as much, but right then and there, it suddenly felt difficult to repeat that. “You know how I feel about it.”

There was sour expression on Stevie’s face and it took him several tries before he could say what he needed to say. “You’re right. You should go.”

Xabi laughed because it sounded like a trick. “No.”

“I’m serious.”

“No!” Xabi was more forceful this time because Stevie wasn’t making sense; he was only trying to make him feel guilty for even considering the invitation to begin with. He’s done enough wrong already. “I don’t want you to ever think that there’s someone else other than you.”

“And I won’t think that,” Stevie said. “But I want us to work, not just this summer, but this school year and maybe even after that and beyond. I don’t want any resentment in our relationship – that I don’t let you go to things you want to go and see people you want to see to say things you need to say.”

Xabi’s face was burning up. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do. And you need to as well.” Stevie sighed, “If there are things you need to resolve with Harry, if you need to say goodbye…” he makes a vague gesture to show that he was letting him, but grudgingly so, “Just promise me that you’ll still be mine after?”

Xabi didn’t even let a second pass after that question. “Of course,” he assured. “You could go with me, you know? I don’t need to be there alone.”

Stevie grimaced but he tried to cover it up with a laugh. “It’s already killing me to let you go see Harry. It’s probably best that I don’t get to see it as it happens.”

*

Fernando was sorry the moment he stepped out of Raul’s bedroom. He was sorry all throughout the bus ride home, and he was sorry all throughout that long, sleepless night. By the time he returned to Raul’s house the next day, he was utterly distraught. He didn’t even know if he was welcome there. Raul hadn’t answered any of his calls or texts no matter how many times he tried to apologise.

Fernando knocked on the door of Raul’s bedroom one too many times – he’s never had to knock before, and Raul has never had to make him wait either. Finally, the older boy answered, but he was guarded – something he’s never been around Fernando – his hands planted on either side of the doorframe as if to block entry. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were stormy. 

“I’m sorry,” Fernando said. “I’m so, so sorry.” The conversation had just started and he was begging already. He just wanted things to be okay already. They were already on borrowed time as it was, and he had lost them one day because of the fight. “I didn’t mean to say the things I said. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Raul was unmoved. Fernando could guess why. Raul didn’t need his apologies; there was probably nothing to forgive. He wanted to hear something else.

Fernando glanced down at his sneakers, rocked from heel to toe. “I’ve booked my flight.”

“When are you leaving?” Finally, a reaction.

“Tonight.”

Raul’s lips were still pursed tightly, but he nodded and opened the door wider so Fernando could enter. He took the younger boy into a tight hug the moment they were in the safety of his bedroom. Fernando let himself fall into Raul’s arms, relishing the warmth, the pressure of the embrace, like they could convey emotion just by touch.

Raul put on a brave smile when they pulled apart. “Have you had lunch? Come on, let me take you out. There are a few more places I haven’t shown you.” 

It was a whirlwind tour but for Fernando, it was the only way to spend his last day in Spain. They went to a hole-in-the-wall restaurant for paella and seafood, walked off their meal down the Gran Via, visited the Chocolateria de San Gines for their famous churros and laid out in the grass to soak up the sun after. There was no talk of leaving, at least not yet, and it made Fernando feel better to see his beloved Madrid one last time. The city had never looked so beautiful than it did that day. Summer had always looked good on the city.

However, the closer it got to his departure time, Fernando’s mood slowly soured. Heading back to Raul’s house, he was beginning to get downcast, answering questions with sullen, one-word replies and sighing pitifully every time they passed a place where they hung out with friends.

By the time they returned to Raul’s bedroom, Fernando was completely withdrawn. He sat on the older boy’s desk so he could look out the window. It was getting dark. He would have to go home soon since his parents were bringing him to the airport.

“This is the right decision to make, isn’t it?” Fernando’s intentions weren’t to push the issue again – it was too late for that now. He just really wanted to know. At this age, was he expected to understand what he wanted to be for the rest of his life? Besides, Raul – before the infatuation, before the involvement – he was first and foremost a mentor.

Raul stood in front of him, placing his hands on the younger boy’s knees. “You’re on the verge of becoming a great football player, Nando.” Fernando liked how Raul said his nickname the right way: quick and short. “But you can’t do that here.”

“How come everyone else can?” He asked like a child left behind by his playmates.

“It’s just coincidence. Iker and I came through the Real Madrid system, Villa and Silva from Valencia, the Catalans from Barcelona. Let the chips fall where they may.” Raul reminded, “You could stay at Atletico Madrid, but did you enjoy at all during your freshman year there?”

Fernando hesitantly shook his head.

“Exactly. You’re better than the entire Atletico youth team,” Raul said. “Unfortunately, Real won’t sign someone from their rivals and Barca is already filled to the rafters with their own trainees. Don’t forget, even Pepe and Cesc, they had to move too. They knew there was nothing for them here.”

He added, “Besides, English football is good for you, you said so yourself. Just think of all the people our age who are better-suited for England but don’t get the football scholarships that you, Pepe or Cesc got.”

Fernando nodded, taking it all in. Raul was right, of course he was right. He knew those answers too, and he had resolved these issues a long time ago. Sometimes, though, they were difficult to remember and even more to accept.

“It’s just that, everyone is here. You’re here.”

“And we’ll still be here when you come back, whether it’s to visit or it’s for good.”

Fernando sighed shakily. He wished that would make him feel better, but it didn’t. His feelings choked him, making it difficult to breathe. Goodbyes were always tough, no matter how right or expected or wanted they were.

Outside, the sun had set completely, and they heard the sound of the car as Raul’s parents arrived. Raul moved away to flick on the lights, but the blonde protested. “I like the dark.”

The older boy laughed softly and relented, switching on the radio instead to break the silence.

He returned to Fernando’s perch on the desk. “Come on. No more talk of this.”

“No,” Fernando whined, keeping his gaze set outside. He couldn’t look at Raul because if he did, he might lose his composure and cry.

Raul took Fernando’s hands and pulled him to his feet. “Come on now.”

The blonde grudgingly stood up, but he crossed his arms over his chest and frowned deeply. He didn’t know what it achieved, insisting on feeling bad.

Raul answered it for him, teasing gently, “You’re really stubborn, aren’t you?”

The corner of Fernando’s mouth quirked up – an almost-smile. _Yes. Yes, he was._ Raul bent forward and kissed Fernando quickly as if he had to catch the moment before it passed.

For that, Fernando eased his stance, letting Raul guide him to the centre of the room, although he didn’t understand why. Raul turned up the volume of the battered radio playing on his shelf.

“I love this song,” he said. He placed his hands on Fernando’s waist lightly as if he was scared of breaking him.

Fernando could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks as he realised what Raul was trying to do. “Don’t be stupid,” he huffed, planting his feet on the floor, refusing to move. He stared at Raul stonily as if daring him to try again.

Raul smiled and he started swaying the both of them. “Dance with me.”

Fernando wanted to burst out laughing or crying. “Stop,” he moaned, but it tapered off into an awkward laugh. He stumbled over his feet as Raul rocked him from side to side. “You’re going to injure us both!”

Raul settled for slow, small steps, moving them in a circle. Fernando rolled his eyes but his heart was fluttering wildly as he finally followed the older boy’s lead. He wrapped his arms around Raul’s neck and buried his face against his shoulder. Raul’s worn-out chambray shirt was soft against his cheek, and the fading scent of his cologne calmed him.

Fernando felt Raul’s chest rise and fall as he heaved a deep sigh; for once, he didn’t attempt to be mature or understanding about their situation. Fernando looked up to see what was wrong. Raul gazed at him deeply, like he was trying to study every detail about his lover, a memory to remember him by for the long, long months when they wouldn’t see each other again.

Raul smiled a strange, hollow smile, then he embraced Fernando again. He whispered against his hair, “You’re a real heartbreaker, Fernando Torres.”

The radio started playing an old Dave Matthews song. The kind Fernando never really grew up listening to but Raul had insisted on playing so often; he didn’t know its name or its words but the music was familiar.

It reminded him of long summer nights in Raul’s bedroom when he made Fernando listen to the CDs he had saved up to buy. They would only half-understand the English words, but Raul hummed along to them nevertheless, reciting the lyrics off the album insert. Other times, Raul would pretend he was playing the guitar and Fernando would go along and play the drums for him, slapping his hands on the desk until his palms were red and burning. They would bang their heads to the beat and then jump on the bed until they got dizzy and had to lie down together.

“You still had a mohawk then,” Raul commented. He was playing out the same memories too.

Fernando chuckled. “Never again.”

Raul tugged at Fernando’s long, unruly hair just like he tugged at that stupid mohawk years ago. “I liked it.”

Fernando smiled, and he thought, even if he couldn’t stay with Raul, it was good that he experienced a strong, healthy relationship even for just a while. It lifted the spirits, cleared the head and warmed the heart.

“I wish I could stay longer.”

Raul pressed a kiss on Fernando’s lips. “Nothing you and I say can change the way that things are. So, hush now.”


	19. We are only here for one more night

Harry knocked on Finns’ door to announce his presence but he let himself in anyway. “Lucas and Masch have arrived.”

Finns smothered his face with a pillow. Great. Lucas, Masch, and the earliest arrival, Yossi, were here. He had three guests in his farewell party.

The mattress dipped as Harry sat beside him and plucked the pillow from his face. “Would you relax?”

“My party is a failure.”

“It’s not a failure! It’s barely 10 minutes past 9 PM. Nobody arrives until at least an hour after the official time,” Harry said. “Well, nobody except Lucas, Masch and Yossi, it seems.”

Finns, though, wasn’t listening. “I told you, I told Daniel, we should have just invited the team for a small get-together! Pizza and beer, just a few of friends, what was so wrong with that?” He cried out and reached for another pillow to bury his face in.

Harry intercepted him before he could try, scolding sharply, “Stephen!”

The Irishman sighed and let his arms fall to his sides, staring at the ceiling sullenly. Downstairs, Daniel must have started the music already since he could hear a few pop songs wafting in from the open door.

Harry pulled Finns up so he could cradle his head on his lap. “Even if it’s just you, me, Daniel, Lucas, Masch and Yossi tonight, we’re going to have fun. We’ll have all the food and the drinks to ourselves, and can you just imagine what we can make those kids do when they get drunk?”

Finns snickered. They had tried to make Yossi take tequila once – it did not end well.

“Besides, your teammates and your classmates confirmed that they would be here tonight,” Harry pointed out. When that didn’t calm Finns’ nerves, Harry added with a wink, “Don’t forget, this is my party too. I’ve never had a party fail before.”

Finns had to laugh. His boyfriend was, by far, the more popular one between the two of them, there was no questioning that. Maybe he should trust him. He pinched Harry's stomach, making the other boy squirm. “You really had to toot your own horn?”

“Don’t grab my flab!” The Australian tried to roll away.

“That is not flab!” Finns said, raising Harry's shirt to inspect. His boyfriend may not be a football player anymore but he was very much in shape.

Harry pushed his shirt down and he patted his tummy self-consciously. “I haven't been working out this summer because of those stupid classes.”

Finns sat up so he could kiss Harry's nose. “Well, it doesn't show cos you're still gorgeous as fuck.”

Harry wondered when compliments began to make him blush -- he was as self-assured as they come. But it felt so different to be affirmed by your boyfriend.

He hasn't had a boyfriend in a long, long time, Harry realised. Maybe that was why the feeling was so foreign. And he hadn't been looking for a boyfriend either. He had just been fooling around with Finns and then... And then suddenly it wasn't all just fun and games anymore. He hasn't looked back since.

“Hey, why have you gone quiet?” Finns asked, the concern fast spreading across his well-defined features.

“I can't believe that in a week, we'll be living together in New York City.” A shiver ran down Harry's spine just saying those words.

Finns got the same faraway look that Harry was sure he sported. “Yeah,” he echoed. “Are you scared?”

Harry looked down at his hands and nodded. The move hasn't really sunken in yet, and he doubted it would, not until he was actually in the Big Apple.

“But are you excited?” Finns asked, a hopeful smile on his face.

Harry broke into a grin too, “Yeah.”

It was a fine balance how they were able to take turns supporting each other.

“I suppose we should have the talk now,” Finns announced. He positioned them so they sat cross-legged on the bed facing each other.

“What is this?” Harry asked nervously. “What talk?”

Finns drummed his hands on the other boy’s knees, “What should I know about you before we move in together?”

Harry burst out laughing. He paused for a while as he thought, eventually admitting, “Okay, this is strange, but I’m very possessive about my toiletries. I hate it when people use my toothpaste, my shampoo, my soap. Those are mine, thank you very much.”

Finns laughed too. He never would have thought. Harry was so easy-going most of the time. “I promise stay away from your side of the bathroom.”

“Your turn.”

“I like having friends over,” Finns said. It’s become a habit, he explained, always inviting friends and classmates to his house whether it was for group work or sleepovers or parties. He was an only child and it got too quiet when he didn’t have anyone over.

“As long as you clean up after them, it’s fine,” Harry shrugged. “Plus you’ll be living with me so it shouldn’t get too lonely.”

Harry’s turn again. He reviewed his past few years in the dorm. What did his roommates hate about him, and what did he hate about his roommates?

He snapped his fingers as it hit him. “Ah. I need to have everything in order. When things are messy, they drive me crazy. I don’t care if they’re my things or your things. I need all the books put back in the shelf, all the pens placed on the desk, all the clothes folded properly.”

“I give you permission to fix my things.”

Harry nodded. How many times had Fernando gone home only to discover that Harry color-coded his entire wardrobe? “But, that doesn’t mean I’m cleaning up after you!” he clarified. “I have my moods, but I’m not going to be responsible for cleaning our entire apartment!”

Finns drew a cross over his heart. “Of course, that’s only fair. But I have to warn you, I don’t exactly… know how to do chores.”

“Oh, I figured.” Harry took his boyfriend’s hands. His palms were so soft, they clearly haven’t seen a day of work in their life.

“But I’m trying to learn!” Finns supplied hurriedly. “I’ve been researching how to do laundry – separate the clothes so the colours don’t mix, bleach is only for the whites, read the labels to make sure they’re not supposed to be dry-cleaned…”

“Ok. How about cooking or cleaning?”

“I can… make our beds?”

Harry laughed. “Maybe I’ll take care of cooking during our first few weeks – for our safety. I’m sure we can teach you a thing or two, though, even if it’s just a grilled cheese sandwich or a fried egg.”

“Or I can get us takeaway!” Finns volunteered. “I’ll make sure we don’t eat Chinese too many times in one week.”

“Ok. Are you going to wash the dishes?” Harry teased.

Finns’ nose wrinkled. “The apartment doesn’t come with a dishwasher?”

“There are only two of us, Stephen,” Harry spoke like his mother, if his mother ever deigned to do housework, “That’s just two plates, two glasses, two spoons and two forks.”

The Irishman heaved a long-suffering sigh, “Fine, fine, I will.”

The din of the party downstairs was getting louder. The chatter, the dance music, the clinking of cutlery and glasses filtered into Finns’ bedroom. The Irishman stood up and tried to peek out the window, but the trees in the front yard cut off his view. It was still drizzling, but the deluge earlier in the day had eased. Maybe people actually decided to go to the party?

“I can hear you thinking all the way from here,” Harry called out as he fixed the rumpled bedsheets.

“I’ve never held a party as big as this, definitely not one that’s meant for me – sorry, I mean, us.” Finns felt hands grab his shoulders and pull him away from the window. He turned to face his boyfriend. Just inches apart, Finns was sure Harry could hear him start to hyperventilate.

Harry fixed the collar of his shirt for him, smoothed it out across his chest and then combed his hair so it stood out right. “This is going to be our last party in Liverpool, so we’re going to enjoy it, alright? Even if there are just a few people downstairs. We’re not counting.”

Finns nodded and took a deep breath to calm himself down. Harry clapped his shoulders, gave him a small shake to shrug off the nerves. “Let’s go.”

“Wait,” Finns blurted out, and the Australian’s brow furrowed. Finns smiled and kissed his boyfriend deeply. He loved that he knew his taste so well. “I’m happy that if I’m going on this adventure, I’m going with you.”

Finns has never seen Harry blush that deep a shade of red before. He added, “At least if I die in New York, whether out of hunger or poverty or failure or crime, someone will notify my parents.”

Harry kissed Finns too. His cheeks hadn’t gone back to their normal colour just yet. “If I don’t die with you, I will gladly report it, as long as you don’t forget to do the same for me.”

*

Finns didn't expect the music to be so loud -- when did the party get into full swing? They were just by the landing of the stairs and he could already feel the bass banging against his chest.

“I told you we'd have a real party,” Harry said.

Or they had an empty house and Daniel just turned up the music to compensate, Finns thought sullenly. He bottled up the pessimism though.

“Harry!” A group of students had just arrived, and they waved the Australian over. Finns recognised some of them as the staff of the school paper.

Harry glanced at Finns unsurely, as if to ask for permission. “I'll be quick. I'll just say hi.”

Finns waved him off. Those were Harry's friends and there was no reason his boyfriend shouldn't enjoy himself. “Take your time. I'll go and find Daniel to make sure he hasn't destroyed any of the furniture yet.”

Harry grinned. There wasn't much he could do out in the open, but he squeezed Finns' arm reassuringly before he bounded to the foyer and welcomed his friends.

The moment Harry left, Finns regretted it. His feet felt as heavy as lead as he walked towards the living room. He's never entered a party by himself, much less one in his own house, thrown in his name. What if it was empty? Worse, what if it was full but he didn't know anyone?

He gripped the mobile phone in his pocket and clung to it like a security blanket. If he didn't find any of his teammates or friends, he would just pretend to text until he got to the kitchen. He could lock himself there, drink his nerves off and call Daniel or Harry to rescue him.

The presence of a gameplan soothed his nerves just enough for him to make it to the living room. People were almost spilling out. Who where they and where did they come from? There were more people here than on his Facebook news feed.

He had to take two to three daunting steps into the living room before his eyes adjusted to the darkness, the new arrangement of the furniture. He was feeling lost when somebody gripped his arm.

“Steve!” A red-haired, mousy girl stopped him. Shit, no one has called him Steve in ages. It was even rarer than “Stephen.”

Finns squinted until he could make out the features of the person. “Sheena, hi!” He greeted, recognising his lab partner back in sophomore year. “I'm glad you could make it!”

Sheena laughed and wrapped him in a quick hug. “Of course, I wouldn't have missed it!”

They chatted for a while, and she even introduced him to some of her friends. They were never his classmates, but he recognised them from four years of passing by them in the halls, the cafeteria, the lawns; they all seemed to know him.

“That went well,” Finns muttered under his breath after he excused himself. The living room was packed, he realised. He had to squeeze in between groups of people to make his way through, and the chatter was just as loud as the music.

He had barely walked a few metres forward when he bumped into more friends. First, there was Sebastian, Emiliano and Albert, all previously part of the football team, drinking beers by the window.

And then he saw Cathy, a girl he courted when he was still a freshman and straight, who was dancing in the middle of the room with some of her friends. Afterwards, he spotted Eddie, the guy whose locker was right beside his last year. Finns always thought he was really cute, but he never tried anything since he had a girlfriend of three years -- an eternity in high school.

He was even stopped by a couple of guys he didn't know. They introduced themselves and said they just wanted to send their regards since they were fans of the team. One of the lads even said he was a fan of Finns. He took that compliment with a grain of salt since he knew he was by no means a star player, but it made him feel good nevertheless.

“What did I tell you?” Someone yelled in his ear. Finns jumped and saw the smirking, gloating face of his best friend. “What did I tell you?” he goaded again.

Finns tried to bite back his grin, but he couldn't. He was almost laughing his head off. “I can't believe you pulled this off!” He exclaimed, leaping at Daniel and hugging him tightly.

The other boy hugged him back, even lifted him a few inches off the ground. “I didn't pull anything off. I just sent out the invitations, and everyone said they would come.”

Finns looked around the living room again, his eyes wide, jaw slightly dropped. Everyone was enjoying -- shouting, dancing, drinking. The goosebumps broke out all over his skin.

“They're all here because of you, not because of me,” Daniel said.

A sudden wave of panic hit Finns -- it seemed like all he did recently was worry -- “Did you remember to put aside the breakables? My mother will have a seizure if we break anything. She just bought a hand-painted figurine of Don Quixote from Spain last week. We cannot have a scratch on that or else!”

Daniel shushed him. “We cleared out the breakables this morning. Your mother even supervised the entire affair. She's a dictator, I tell you.”

“Oh, tell me about it.”

“You're so uptight!” His best friend scolded. He took him by the arm and they began to weave in and out of the crowd. “Come on, let's start on your father's scotch. You need a drink!”

*

“Hello?”

“Hi, Stevie,” Xabi greeted timidly.

“Hey. Are you at the party yet?”

Xabi sounded even more tentative. “I just got to Finns’ house, decided to call you before heading in.”

Stevie had no idea what to say to that. Was he supposed to thank Xabi? Congratulate him? Assure him it wasn’t necessary? “Okay then,” he settled with something neutral. “Enjoy yourself.”

There was a stretch of silence. Stevie knew Xabi was assessing how he really felt about his boyfriend’s attendance in the send-off. He had assured Xabi all day that he was fine with it, that it was his decision to let Xabi go in the first place. The Basque didn’t seem entirely convinced. He couldn’t blame him. He wasn’t entirely convinced himself.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me? I’m still outside Finns’ house. I can wait for you. We can go in together,” Xabi said.

The thought of Xabi standing on the curb in the middle of the night, waiting for him to arrive so he could accompany his boyfriend to the party – it made Stevie cringe. He wasn’t a bodyguard or a babysitter. He shouldn’t act like one.

“It’s fine, Xabi. Go and have fun.”

“Are you sure?” The Basque repeated. “The others should be here: Carra, Sami, Riise…”

“It’s fine,” Stevie insisted. “I… have to run some errands.”

“Errands? At this hour?”

Stevie checked his watch. It was half-past 11 PM. Okay, that excuse did sound stupid. “I just have a couple of things I need to do. So, don’t worry about me, I can keep myself busy.”

Xabi finally relented. “Okay, I won’t stay out late.”

When the call ended, Stevie tossed his mobile on the passenger seat. Xabi didn’t need to know that he was in his father’s car, parked by some side street in the Liverpool suburbs. His father wasn’t comfortable letting him out so late at night, but he argued that he needed to practise driving anyway, and it would be the perfect time since traffic would be much lighter.

He was going crazy staying at home, and this urge to drop by the farewell party just kept buzzing in his head. He even drove up close to Woolton but he turned around at the last intersection. A couple of miles driving down empty highways with the windows rolled down and the urge slowly faded away. Sometimes, you just had to ride out the moments of weakness.

His mobile beeped again. Xabi texted, “I love you.” Even as Stevie tapped out an “I love you too,” he switched on the car engine again. Time for another drive. He had important things to do.

*

After spending the first half of the party apart and socialising with their own guests, Harry and Finns finally found each other with the other football players.

“Oh, thank god, I thought the crowd had swallowed you up,” Finns greeted Harry with a tight hug. It was all he could get away with the house still packed with friends and acquaintances. Maybe if it was just the team, he could risk a kiss or more.

“I keep forgetting how difficult it is to be a host. I haven’t had time to drink! Sobriety is such a strange feeling!” Harry said, gratefully accepting a flute of champagne from Sami.

“Of course that is Moët & Chandon,” Carra piped in, completely mispronouncing the name of the champagne.

Finns shrugged. After years of endless ribbing, he had stopped feeling the need to apologise for his wealth. It meant good food, good drinks and a prepared party venue. People weren’t complaining. “My parents wouldn’t have allowed me to buy anything less.”

Harry raised his glass, “Then we’d better enjoy, since we’re not going to be able to afford Moët anytime soon.”

The other boys cheered and made a toast.

They were launching into a passionate conversation about the coming school year and the new recruits when Finns suddenly faltered mid-sentence. Harry looked up, followed his boyfriend’s stunned gaze and almost took a step back himself. Xabi approached the group, shuffling his feet unsurely.

Carra eyed Finns and Harry, but he welcomed Xabi. “Come on, lad, get yourself a drink. Is Stevie with you?”

Harry could have sworn that Xabi glanced at him for a split-second before answering, “No, he said he had to run some errands tonight, but he sends his regards.”

“Well, then, come on and catch up with us!” Sami said, pouring Xabi some champagne.

Xabi eased into the conversation, making a joke that they shouldn’t be accepting any more midfielders because he feared for his spot in the starting 11. The boys returned to their discussion, but Harry felt Finns step closer to him, a hand casually yet possessively draped on his shoulder.

During one of the lulls, Harry saw Xabi cast him a furtive look. He hid his face behind his champagne flute, chugged down the drink until it burned his throat. The next thing he knew, Xabi slipped out of their huddle and walked towards him. He nearly choked on his drink.

To his surprise, it wasn’t him that Xabi addressed. It was his boyfriend.

“Hey, Finns, is it okay if I talk to Harry in private?”

Finns was absolutely bewildered, face pale, eyes hard. But he couldn’t say no. This talk had to happen whether he liked it or not. Besides, he – grudgingly – appreciated that Xabi asked him first. “Go ahead,” he said through gritted teeth.

Harry followed Xabi away. He was aware that the chatter had stopped and that all eyes were on them. He normally liked being the centre of attention, but he felt so out of sorts right now.

Xabi led him out back. There were a couple of people lounging on the wicker set in the garden, but the patio was empty. They headed for a quiet corner, where the music barely filtered through from the living room. Xabi took out his pack of cigarettes, lit himself a stick then leaned on the railings, enjoying the first, few moments of quiet.

Harry never cared for smoking but he seemed to end up dating smokers anyway. Xabi snuck at least a cigarette pack or two every week, while Finns bummed off enough sticks from Daniel.

“Is this bothering you?” Xabi asked, exhaling the smoke out the corner of his mouth so it wouldn't blow into Harry's face.

“The cigarettes or this confrontation?”

Xabi laughed. “What does it matter? I suppose the answer is yes to both questions anyway.”

Harry stared at the darkness of their surroundings. The soft, even texture of the perfectly manicured lawn made his eyes shift out of focus.

There were so many questions burning in his mind. They hadn't talked since the incident after the AP Chemistry final. He had assumed they wouldn't see each other again before he left; Stevie was so mad the last time. But now that they were here together once again, he had to exhume so many issues that he had long buried.

Why was Xabi here? How did he convince Stevie to let him go? Has he sought Harry out? And that was just the tip of the iceberg. That didn't even touch on all the thank yous and sorrys and goodbyes they've owed each other through the years.

He looked at Xabi expectantly. For all the questions he yearned to ask, he was defiant that he wouldn't be the one to speak first. Throughout their relationship, he had always been the initiator, and that did him no good. It was Xabi's turn now.

Xabi, for his part, wasn't balking at the responsibility -- he owed this to Harry. He just wanted to take his time appreciating the significance of this event and letting that sink in. This would be the last in a long line of their moments together. In their tumultuous history, this would be the ending.

It took him back to the first time they met. Line in the cafeteria, an awkward exchange between the new exchange student and the school's up-and-coming heartthrob.

“Even back then, I always knew you would be the one who could do all this -- strike out on your own, live in the big city, make a name for yourself,” Xabi said. He tapped his cigarette against the railing and the excess ash fell into the flower pots down below. “A lot of people are smart and talented. But you were so self-assured... and purposeful. Like you knew that everything you did now had to take you one step closer to a greater plan.”

He added, “It was one of the things I admired the most about you.”

Harry kept his head bowed, studying Xabi's hands. The nails were cut short and yellowing around the cigarette. “Everything you say about me could just as well apply to you. You're exactly the same, probably even better.”

The Spaniard waved away the compliment. “I stay on a narrow path. I like books and notes and logic. You take risks. I play it safe.” Not only in his studies or his football. In his relationships too. Given an ultimatum last year, he ended up choosing Stevie over Harry, for no other reason than Stevie was his boyfriend and they had been together for a long time. That didn't make it a wrong decision, of course not. I did make it a safe one though.

Harry reached out and covered Xabi's free hand with his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Xabi raised their linked hands and pressed a kiss on Harry's fingers. It was just dark enough so they wouldn't be seen.

There was a furtive smile on the Australian's face, and his eyes were twinkling. He looked so bright and alive, something Xabi hadn't seen in a while. They've been through a lot in the past, most of it harrowing. He wished they could hold on to the happier times.

“In a way, I like being your what-if. The one you can never tell your boyfriend about.” Harry said.

Xabi stepped forward and wrapped an arm around Harry's waist, taking him into a tight embrace. “In the same way, I enjoy being the one person you never had. You'll remember everything we've been through and you'll miss me.”

“And you keep all my letters and my books and that shirt you never gave back.” Harry laughed, his breath hot against Xabi's ear. “And you'll look for me in everyone you meet.”

They pulled apart, and it didn't feel sad like they expected. It was fulfilling to come full circle.

Xabi looked into Harry's eyes and told him solemnly, almost as if anointing him, “You're going to be so good at whatever you choose to do in New York. I feel it in my bones, in the same way I felt it when we first met.”

Harry didn't know how Xabi figured out the deep-seated fear he nursed about moving to university and wondering if he could prove that he wasn't just a big fish in a small pond. “I wish you all the best. Your senior year will be a defining year, so take your chances.”

“I will.”

Xabi began to walk back. “I should go,” he said. The chapter, he sensed, was coming to a close.

Harry didn't know why he ended up following Xabi, even as he made his way to the garden path that would take him back to the gate. “Thanks for showing up. I really appreciate it.”

They walked underneath the arbour with the grapevines hanging down on them. It was the most secluded area of the sprawling house. Just a few more metres and they'd be out in the front yard, where the guests were coming and going.

“Hey,” Harry said, and that word sent chills down Xabi's spine. He felt a hand clasp around his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. Hands cupped his face and then, gently, very gently, like raindrops left over from this morning's storm, a kiss on the corner of his lips.

Xabi hadn't realised his eyes had fluttered closed but when he opened them, Harry had pulled away.

“What if, huh?” Xabi's question ended in a sigh.

Harry nodded. “What if.” He gave him a shove out into the front yard, chuckling, “Go now.” They were walking on thin ice.

“Don't be a stranger, Harry Kewell.” Xabi made him promise.

“I won't.”

Xabi's hands itched to hold him one last time, but they may have gone too far as it was. He settled for a limp wave. “Until we meet again.”

“I have a feeling we will,” Harry said.

*

Finns sat on the steps of the grand staircase, watching his party enter its dying stages. The music had passed from dubstep to soft rock. Couples slow-danced while others rested on the couches and talked among themselves instead. Finns rested his head against the wall, the alcohol starting to coax him to sleep.

“All alone?”

Finns looked up and forced open his heavy eyelids. Daniel was staring down at him, a bottle of Black Label in one hand.

“I'm getting old. I can't stay up all night anymore.”

Daniel plopped down next to him, spreading out his long legs over the steps. He passed the bottle of whisky to his best friend. “Where's Harry?”

Finns didn't want to drink anymore but that question made him take two or three gulps of alcohol. “Still with Xabi, I suppose.”

As if on cue, the Australian emerged among the throng of people and yelled out, “There you are!” He jogged up the stairs to approach the two boys. “I've been looking all over for you!”

“I got tired of waiting,” Finns said, not the least bit ashamed at how sullen he sounded.

Harry squeezed himself into the spot on the other side of the Irishman, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and sneaking a kiss on his neck. “I'm sorry, babe.” Finns was still frowning, so Harry explained further. “It just took longer than expected. We had a lot of things we needed to discuss, but it's done. I'm here.”

Finns' mouth was still pursed tightly. Harry repeated, “It's done. I'm here.”

Finns had counted down every second that passed when Harry and Xabi were together, the wait getting more and more agonising as time went on. He thought the best of Harry, he really did, but he also prepared for the worst. Being left behind does that to you.

Harry, to be fair, seemed to be telling the truth. Finns had long learned the signs of distraction during those days when he waited on Daniel and his best friend was hopelessly enamoured with someone else. Right now, Harry looked, smelled, felt the way he always has. “Okay,” he finally said as a sign of acceptance.

Daniel politely averted his gaze as the two boys kissed quickly but deeply. “Alright!” he interrupted after a few seconds, wary they might be caught. He clapped his hands loudly, “Well, this was a slamming party, if I do say so myself.”

Finns was still glassy-eyed from the kiss but he had to admit, “You were right, Daniel. This did turn out to be a success.”

Harry added, “Thank you for all the work you put in.”

The Dane turned red. “Of course, anything for the two of you. These past couple of weeks have been so tough, but you both pulled me through it.”

Harry has never been close to Daniel, but it was only now that he recognised just why Finns valued him so much as a friend. It took him a while to open up to others but once he did, he was fiercely loyal to them. Harry didn't forget how Daniel stood up for him in front of Stevie a few days ago and now, how he single-handedly put this farewell party together for them. He stretched to shake Daniel's hand, “You've been a brilliant trooper yourself.”

If Daniel continued on like this, Harry didn't see why the boy wouldn't be able to work things out with Fernando. But he let those words remain unsaid. It was too early to tell.

Speaking of which...

“No special guest tonight?”

Daniel's features drooped. “No.”

Finns' forehead furrowed. “But didn't Pepe arrive the other day? They didn't travel together?”

Daniel shook his head. “No, I already grilled Pepe. He said Fernando was going to take a different flight, but he didn't know the details.”

Finns and Harry exchanged a look of concern.

“It's the last day of late enrolment tomorrow, so surely he'll be back by then. Maybe he's arriving in the morning. It's just a quick flight,” Finns offered.

Harry added, “Besides, he knows I'm leaving the day after. He wouldn't dare let me go without saying goodbye.”

Daniel nodded but he still looked troubled, nursing his whisky.

Harry gave him a rough shake. “How about this, I'll find out his flight details and let you know the second I hear anything.”

Daniel mustered a weak smile. “Great. Thanks, Harry.”

Finns gave his best friend a reassuring hug. “Now, no use worrying for tonight. What do you say we go back down and end this party with a bang?”

Daniel protested, hugging the Black Label for himself, but the two boys pulled him up to his feet and dragged him downstairs. “Okay, okay!” he chuckled as he nearly fell down the last few steps. If Fernando really was coming back, then this bottle of whisky was not going to be enough to get his mind out of the gutter.

*

Stevie stared up at sky and let the cool, night air fill his lungs. The long drive had done him good, as his mind focused on nothing but the endless stretch of road ahead. There was an odd serenity in being in a car by yourself, no conversation, no music, just the scenery zipping by you, a constant reminder that you are hurtling forward at breakneck speed.

By the time he had parked and stretched his legs, he felt much, much better. Xabi texted that he was heading home, and he believed him. He was heading home too in a while, he replied.

“Errands still?” Xabi asked in his next message.

Stevie tapped out, “Yup.”

He checked his watch. It was nearing 3 AM. It won't be long now.

The airport was still bustling with activity despite the early hours, with summer drawing to a close. Flights zoomed in one after the other, with Stevie watching them closely from the open-air parking lot. He thought he had caught the Iberia logo on one of the incoming planes.

Finally, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out -- an unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Hola.” A familiar voice with a Spanish accent stronger than ever.

Stevie bit on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing out loud. He was amazed at how overwhelmingly happy he was that his friend had returned. “Where are you?”

“I'm here!”

Stevie rolled his eyes at the utter uselessness of his answer. He pushed off from his car and half-ran to the arrivals section. There was a surge of people rushing out. One of the flights must have just let out. “I can't find you!”

“I'm here, I'm right in front of the billboard with the beach and the boats -- “

Stevie spun around, bumping into one or two passersby as he searched for the billboard.

“It's off to the side of the ticket booth. There's a sign that says -- wait. Is that...? I see you!”

Stevie spun around faster. He's never gone to the airport by himself and definitely not in the arrivals section to pick someone up. Where was that ticket booth?

“I see you, stop moving!”

“I can't see you!”

A tinkling laugh on the other end of the line. He teased, “Well, Steven Gerrard. You're looking mighty fine.”

Stevie felt his cheeks turn hot. “Oh, fuck off. Are you just playing tricks on me? Are you even outside yet?”

No answer. He checked his phone -- the call was still ongoing, but he only heard background noise on the other end of the line. “Hello?” He asked. “Are you still there?”

Suddenly, he felt two hands grab his sides. Stevie practically jumped out of his skin as he felt the grip clamp down on him. “Fuck!”

This was how he first saw Fernando. The boy was doubled over, laughing, leaning on his luggage for support as he laughed so hard, it made no sound. Stevie stood above him, hands on his hips, stupid smile on his face, half-fuming, half-overjoyed.

After a few deep breaths, Fernando straightened up, wiping the tears from his eyes. Stevie tried to scowl, but he couldn't keep it on for long.

“You were always too fast for me,” Stevie said.

Fernando threw his arms wide open and the older boy dutifully stepped forward and hugged him tightly.

“Thanks for picking me up,” Fernando murmured against his shoulder.

The Spaniard smelled of a foreign world; none of the scents were familiar, and it was alienating. Stevie tightened his arms around him just to make sure he still felt like the same person.

“You really had to pick the Manchester airport?” Stevie demanded when they pulled away.

“It was the only flight I could get on such short notice!”

Stevie ignored that answer since it hinted at how close Fernando was to not coming back. He took Fernando's bags and wheeled them to the car, packing them in the boot and the backseat. He glanced back. Fernando had fallen behind, walking slowly and observing everything -- the planes overhead, the cars backing out of their parking slots, the stream of people around them. It was as if he was taking his first steps again in England.

Stevie watched Fernando and shuddered at the thought that they almost lost him this summer. He wished he could tell him not to do that again, not to leave without warning, not to be gone for so long, but he had no right since he's never been away from home.

It has been a harrowing few days with so many transitions taking place. Stevie was relieved he had someone on his side again.

Fernando approached Stevie, noticing he had gone quiet. He settled beside him against he side of the car and nudged him lightly with his elbow.

“Hmm?”

Fernando beamed up at him. “Did you miss me?”

A chuckle fell from Stevie's lips.

Fernando looked good -- Spain had done wonders for him. His blonde hair was shorter and even lighter, bleached by the sun. His skin was two to three shades darker, and were those a fresh sprinkling of freckles on his face? This was what it must look like: to be in your natural habitat, to be in your element.

Despite these changes, Fernando had the same toothy smile, the same puppy dog eyes, just like he always did when he tried to earn a compliment from Stevie. That was familiar.

The Scouser's chest felt lighter now. He tugged the younger boy closer with an arm hooked around his neck. He murmured against his hair, “Liverpool was not the same without you.”


	20. Shadow days

Another day, another bedroom. Fernando was confused for a few seconds when he woke up. This ceiling, these bedsheets, this night lamp -- they weren’t his or Raul’s or even Daniel’s. Gingerly, he propped himself up on his elbows to assess the sleeping figure next to him. He smiled in recognition -- Stevie snored lightly, exhausted from the long drive last night.

They had planned to go back to the dormitory, but it was well past curfew and Fernando wouldn’t be let in. Even if he pleaded his case, he forgot to bring his room keys. Stevie added, not without some bitterness, that it was Harry and Finns’ send-off so it was likely his roommate wasn’t home to answer the door.

And so, they went back to Stevie’s place. Fernando wasn’t sure if he was allowed to sleep over -- the Gerrards were fast asleep when they arrived in the wee hours of the morning -- but he figured Xabi has done it a couple of times before anyway.

Fernando checked the clock on Stevie’s bedside table, obscured by a pile of CDs, wads of tissue paper -- he wrinkled his nose in disgust, knowing full well what those could be -- and last week’s sports pages. It was nearly 8 AM. Harry would probably be awake by now. His flight was at 3 PM, and if he knew the Australian well enough, he was already going over every minute detail of his itinerary to make sure it was all in place. He had to get going if he wanted to meet Harry and take him out to brunch before he left. And then he would have to cram enrolment in the afternoon.

He slipped off the bed, put on his clothes and shoved his socked feet into his sneakers. He picked up a marker from the floor and scrawled on the newspaper by Stevie’s bed, “Thanks for the ride.”

Why did it feel like he was a lover running away in the dead of the night?

He grabbed the marker again. "Long day ahead. Call you later!"

Better.

He placed the newspaper on his pillow so Stevie would find it, and snuck a quick goodbye kiss on the older boy’s forehead.

As he walked out of the house, the butterflies in his stomach grew and grew until it felt like his insides were twisting and about to burst out. It had been so easy in Spain to live without the consequences of his abrupt departure from Liverpool. He cut off all contact with England and immersed himself in his hometown. The overnight stay at Stevie’s gave him a brief respite from announcing his return. But now, it was time to face the music.

*

Harry was not going to be his toughest challenge, but Fernando did not expect this to be so difficult. The Australian stared at him, dumbstruck, across the table. Once in a while, he’d blink, rub his eyes and then resume staring.

“Would you stop it?” Fernando broke the silence. “I feel like you’re going to reach out and pinch me any time now, just to make sure I’m real.”

Harry snapped out of his daze, “Sorry about that.” They went back to their business of reading their menus but after a few seconds, Harry had glanced back up at his roommate again. 

“Harry!”

“I’m sorry! What did you expect? It’s Fernando Torres back from the dead.”

“I wasn’t – ”

“And then you appear to me like fucking Jesus Christ at first light, and I’m sleepless and hungover, so of course I’m a little slow on the uptake!”

They both cracked up, and it was like they shook off some of the rustiness of their interaction.

Their first meeting that morning had gone well enough. Harry managed to hobble to the door, almost half-dead and barely able to form a thought, but once he realised who was standing in front of him, it was like he gained some form of sentience and the screaming and jumping and hugging commenced.

As the day passed, though, it was like the weight of the world gradually came down upon them, and their conversations became stiff and stilted – something they had never been before. It was like they were burdened by the idea that this was their last day together and they had spent such a long time apart and there were too many things to be said and they probably wouldn’t have enough time.

Fernando knew it was mainly his fault for being gone for so long and for cutting it too close coming back. He knew Harry was leaving today, and he didn’t even make it to his send-off. He plastered a big grin on his face and tried to keep the atmosphere light. “So, have you heard who’ll be taking your dormitory slot yet?”

“Yeah, I met him the other day. His name is Martin Skrtel, an incoming sophomore. He said he’d move in this week.”

“How is he?”

“Ah. He couldn’t be more different from me.”

A shiver of anxiety ran down Fernando’s spine. He quite liked Harry as a roommate. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, don’t worry. He was nice and polite, easy-going too. I don’t think he’d make a fuss over things like your messy closet or your unmade bed.”

“But?”

“He can be quiet, sometimes intimidating,” Harry said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Let me put it this way – he’s a centreback, and lined up with all our other defenders, he seems like he’d be the scariest one.”

Fernando whistled. He was already a little terrified of the likes of Carra, Sami and Riise when they were on the pitch. In one of his earliest games, he had missed a header when they were defending a corner and the other team scored a tap-in. Carra had grabbed him by the shirt and yelled in his face, “If you can’t clear a ball as basic as that, don’t bother putting on your kit and coming out to play. You could go back to the locker rooms right now and we’d find it easier to play with ten men!” It had scarred him the entire season.

Noticing the spooked expression on the Spaniard’s face, Harry added, “Maybe he’s just aloof at the start. That can change once you get to know each other.” He tapped Fernando’s arm and beckoned him closer, like he was going to whisper a secret. “By the way, Martin’s also, quite possibly, the straightest boy I have ever met.”

Fernando giggled, his dread momentarily forgotten. “A straight roommate! It could be pleasant to live with someone who isn’t trying to sleep with me.”

Harry teased back, “Yeah, but good luck trying to explain all the boys you’ll be taking back to your room.”

The waiter arrived and they placed their orders. The restaurant was a new, upscale bakery on the hipster side of town, with freshly-made bread and artisanal sandwiches. None of those bacon-lettuce-tomato affairs, only poached eggs and rockets and porchetta. The floors and tables were dark wood, and the room was lit up by the sunshine pouring generously through the floor-to-ceiling windows. It was very of-the-moment, very cool, a true Harry Kewell choice. Fernando wouldn’t have heard about it if his roommate didn’t choose it for their brunch.

“So, what time did you get in? I hope you weren’t just sitting outside our dorm room, waiting for me to wake up,” Harry said.

“I arrived at about 3 in the morning.” Fernando hesitated before continuing. “I figured you’d be asleep, so I stayed over at Stevie’s instead.”

The cutlery jumped as Harry slammed his fists down on the table. “You figured I’d be asleep at 3 in the morning, but Stevie wouldn’t?”

“Actually, Stevie picked me up from the airport,” Fernando said. He was already cringing before he even finished the sentence as he anticipated Harry’s reaction.

“What?” The Australian shrieked. It was a good thing the restaurant was close to empty. “You told Stevie when you’d be back but not me? Have you been in contact with him all this time you were in Madrid?”

Fernando held up his hands as he tried to calm Harry down. “I only called him from the airport, just before I was going to fly out.”

“Wow, now I know how Daniel feels. I’m not your boyfriend or anything, but I’m jealous.”

The first mention of Daniel today. Fernando flinched like he’d been nicked by a knife – the type of cut that shouldn’t really hurt, but it draws blood anyway. “How is he?”

Harry paused to realign himself. He had been spending a lot of time with Daniel lately, and he found himself liking the boy much, much more. But that didn’t change a lot of what had had happened in the past. He had to be objective.

“Well, he was devastated that you left and that you didn’t tell him.”

A lump formed in Fernando’s throat. “Really?”

“I was the one who broke the news to him. He showed up at the dorm one day, asking to talk to you, and I had to tell him. He regularly dropped by throughout the summer, just to check if you’d come back.”

Fernando just felt sick now. Like his head was spinning and his hands were cold. The waiter arrived with their food, and he felt like he was going to throw up at the sight of it.

“It was like he was completely unbalanced by what happened. He got into a fight with Stevie and he was suspended from the team for a while. Then he became listless and withdrawn. ‘He fell into a rut’ was what Finns said.”

“I didn’t do it just to get a reaction from him,” Fernando protested with a little too much force.

“Hey, hey, take a deep breath,” Harry reached out across to the table to rub his arms comfortingly. “I know that. You wanted to leave, and you didn’t owe anyone an explanation.”

Fernando sniffled, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat. One conversation about Daniel and he was already a few steps from the ledge, teetering.

“If I can just say one last thing, though,” Harry began tentatively. “Daniel seems very remorseful. I don’t know what that means for the both of you but to me, it seemed like he understood what he did wrong and he knew he had to change.”

Harry hated himself for the flicker of hope that sparked in Fernando’s eyes. A few blinks, and it was gone, but Harry knew that it was there now – a renewed belief. He didn’t want to lead him on, especially given Daniel’s track record of letting people down. What did it matter that Daniel was remorseful, anyway? He has been apologetic many times before, but what was more telling was that he stubbornly refused to change despite it.

“Don’t listen to me. What do I know, huh?” Harry forced a laugh as he manoeuvred a retraction. “Maybe I’ve just gotten soft because I’m leaving. During my send-off, I even considered that I might miss Carra one day.”

Fernando chuckled weakly, and that egged Harry on. “Stevie, though, not a chance. Our dorm monitor, maybe.”

The Spaniard laughed now, a real, deep laugh from the pit of the stomach. The pink blotched on his cheeks and the furrow deep in his brow gradually disappeared. Harry felt better seeing his friend’s storm of emotions quieten down.

“As for Daniel,” Harry said quietly, “Maybe you should just see it for yourself.”

“I don’t think I’m ready.”

“Fernando, it’ll be inevitable. You might not be ready, but you have to get a strategy in the meantime. You can’t break down like this.”

The other boy nodded. Harry took his hands and gave them a tight squeeze. “Whatever happens, e-mail me, text me, call me. I’ll be there if you need any help. I’ll probably be jetlagged in my first few weeks anyway, so don’t even worry about the time difference.”

Fernando smiled. “Thanks, Harry.”

It was such a unique relationship, being roommates. It wasn’t anything like being friends or teammates or lovers. They had to be companions and partners. Since they lived together, it came with this express responsibility to take care of each other. They could get into fights, they could be busy, they could be embroiled in their own, personal crises, but they always had to be on the lookout for each other.

“We made a brilliant team, didn’t we?” Harry said with a wistful sigh. A memory crossed his mind and a devious smile spread across his face. “Do you think anyone’s figured out by now that we’ve slept with each other?”

A fierce blush covered Fernando’s face. He hasn’t forgotten their encounters – a hurried handjob after they slipped away from the student assembly, a desperate fuck as they reeled from their break-ups. And then there were other incidents that didn’t count as sex but weren’t exactly innocent either – Fernando arriving home drunk and slipping into Harry’s bed, Harry offering Fernando a post-training rubdown when his body was aching.

“I don’t think anyone knows.”

“Well, then, I guess there are still some things that can be kept secret,” Harry said. He started slicing through his sandwich, “Did I tell you that Stevie almost found out about my summer classes with Xabi?”

Fernando’s eyes bulged out of their sockets. “What happened?”

“On the last day of summer class – _the last day_ , would you believe my luck – Stevie decided to visit Xabi in school. All my other students had left already, and Xabi stayed behind so it was just the two of us.” Harry hurriedly qualified, “We were just _talking_ , catching up when Stevie saw us.”

Fernando covered his face with his hands and groaned. “It reminds me of what happened last year, when Stevie caught you two in detention. That was horrible!”

“Believe me, I got terrible flashbacks. Thank fuck we dodged the bullet this time around. We told Stevie I was just the proctor for the exams that day. So if he asks you, remember, Mr. di Matteo was teaching AP Chem over the summer.”

Fernando whistled. “Close call.”

“The closest yet. He probably has some idea, but it’s not like there’s anything else he can do about it since I’m leaving.” Harry shook his head, “Can you just imagine what Stevie would do to me if he found out I debauched you _and_ Xabi? He would flay me, murder me and then use my skin as a carpet.”

“God, Harry, that’s revolting. We’re eating!”

“Sorry, I’ve been watching too much Game of Thrones.”

They tucked into their food, but they snuck in conversation when they could. Harry talked about his flat with Finns, their fears of interior decorating and housekeeping, while Fernando asked questions about what classes he should take this year. It might even do him some good to try out extra-curricular activities other than football, spend time away from the team, he mused. 

After their meal, they returned to the dorm to get Harry’s things. It was odd to see one half of the room so bare. The jitters crept in again. “I even cleaned up your half of the room! This will probably be the last time it’ll be this neat and orderly,” Harry joked but even his laugh was weak.

Fernando offered to carry one of the Australian’s bags and walk him to the taxi stand, just to stretch their last few minutes together. His knees were shaky as they made their way down to the street. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you to the airport?”

Harry shook his head, although a thin sheen of cold sweat was covering his body now. “It will do me good to have some alone time in the cab, get my head around what’s happening, you know? I’m meeting Finns in the airport anyway.”

“Okay,” Fernando replied glumly. He wasn’t ready for the parting just yet.

“Besides, don’t you have to go to enrolment? You’re running late as it is!”

Fernando snickered, challenging, “And what are they gonna do, turn me away?”

Harry laughed. It was good to see a bit of ego on the Spaniard. He was right anyway – there was no way Anfield High could shun their top goalscorer. They would face open revolt among the students and even a good number of the faculty and staff.

They reached the taxi stand, and Harry couldn’t stop his spiel if he tried. “Now, don’t forget, the laundry has to be picked up every Tuesday, okay? There are a couple of notebooks I left on my desk – I can’t bear to throw them away, but maybe you can use them as your reviewers.” Harry was like a parent going away on a trip, entrusting the house to his child. “I gave Martin your mobile number in case he needs help moving in. Be nice to him! The emergency numbers are on a Post-It on the dresser.”

Fernando nudged Harry to get him to stop babbling. “Don’t worry about me.”

Harry sighed. His body felt so heavy as he raised his arms to embrace his friend. “Sometimes I feel like I raised you.”

“Call me the moment you touch down, okay? And when you find your flat. If there’s anything you left behind, tell me so I can mail it to you. If I send it early enough, you might get it before your school year starts.”

“Now who’s worrying?”

Fernando hugged Harry again, tighter this time. “I raised you too, you know.”

They pulled away and Harry pressed a kiss to the Spaniard’s hair. “I love you, kid.”

“Same,” Fernando replied lamely. He feared if he said any more, they would cry, and Harry would never make it to the airport in time. He bundled his roommate into a waiting cab and helped the driver load the bags into the trunk and the backseat.

Harry rolled the window down and flashed him that trademark brilliant grin one last time. Then he was off.

*

Daniel tapped his feet nervously, his sneakers slapping noisily against the pavement. Late enrolment was ongoing in the administrative wing of Anfield High but the teachers wouldn’t let him in since he was already done with his registration. He had to station himself on one of the benches across the school lawn so he would be able to monitor who was coming in and going out of the building.

See, there was talk that somebody was back in town and he needed to see it for himself. “Need” was too tame a word, even. He craved it, thirsted for it, was desperately wanting for it. He had rushed to school once he’d heard the news and had since been waiting patiently.

There was nothing to see just yet, and doubt was starting to creep in. Was it possible that the word from the grapevine was wrong? He reread the messages on his phone, but there was no room for misinterpretation.

_Fernando’s back.  
Sender: Stephen Finnan, 1:00 PM_

Just the first message had almost given him a heart attack. He’d been waiting all week for that news and when he heard it, it still made his body seize violently.

_Harry said he arrived this morning. They had a goodbye lunch together before Harry headed to the airport.  
Sender: Stephen Finnan, 1:00 PM_

_DON’T TELL HARRY I TOLD YOU.  
Sender: Stephen Finnan, 1:01 PM_

Daniel had tried to call his best friend, but Finns couldn’t come to the phone since he was busy checking in for his flight. It was a good thing Harry texted soon after, confirming the news – true to his promise a few weeks ago that he would tip off the Dane once Fernando returned.

_Dan, he’s back. He should be in school this afternoon for enrolment.  
Sender: Harry Kewell, 1:19 PM_

_Remember, you didn’t hear this from me!  
Sender: Harry Kewell, 1:20 PM_

Daniel shifted impatiently from his perch on the bench. The stone was warm under his legs from the heat of the sun. He tried to keep his pose as casual as possible, slumping slightly like he was bored, like he just happened to be in campus – pure coincidence, no ulterior motives.

Daniel checked his watch. Fernando should be finishing any moment now. The school registrar closed shop at 3:30 PM. The excitement, though, was starting to mix with dread. Maybe this was a bad idea. His body began going through the motions of rebelling against his plan. His heart dropped down to his feet and his stomach turned inside out and he wanted to gag. He realised that he had nothing to say and even if he did, he wouldn’t be able to say it.

Of course, this was the exact moment that Fernando emerged from the building. He was still a speck in the distance, coming out of the administrative wing, jogging easily down the steps then making his way to the long, winding path to the dormitories. Daniel knew it was him though. He knew his gait and his silhouette by heart. As a defender often observing play from yards away, he had long developed the skill of recognising people by their form and movement.

Soon, the Spaniard would be taking the curve in the road and he would spot Daniel. And Daniel was quickly falling apart. What was his gameplan again? Why was he here? Was there a nearby shed he could hide behind? Daniel jumped to his feet, but there was nothing but a wide expanse of grass and cobblestone stretching around him and Fernando. He considered calling Finns for last-minute coaching, but how the fuck did Fernando manage to walk that fast?

Daniel’s heart began to race, the closer Fernando got. The fear built up in his chest but so did the anticipation.

Fernando finally crossed his line of vision and Daniel heard the air escape from his lungs. The boy looked just like he always remembered. Tall, freckled, a shade darker but still pale by and large. Maybe his hair was shorter, lighter, but with Fernando, his hair was always changing so Daniel had long stopped keeping track.

At the same time, though, the Spaniard looked like a completely different person. Maybe Daniel was seeing him in a new light? He appeared refreshed and yet also older and wisened, somehow. The glint in his eyes, the twist of his lips – it was like he kept a secret, and Daniel was dying to find out what it was. Fernando’s natural good looks were always more than enough to make him attractive, but a hint of intrigue, of complexity? It made him _undeniable_ to Daniel.

*

Enrolment turned out to be a breeze. Fernando was one of the last students to enlist so it wasn’t like there was a wealth of class schedules to choose from. The queues for school supplies, books and uniforms were long gone too. Fernando signed his name on the last of his registration papers, certifying that he would be a student of Anfield High this coming school year, and it was done. The registrar placed an official stamp on the documents and its thud was loud and final.

Fernando pushed open the heavy school doors and stepped outside, turning his face to the weak sunlight. For all his fears, continuing school in Liverpool now felt like the most natural thing to do. Yes, he was acclimatising to the city again after a long vacation in Madrid, but it wasn’t much of learning new things, just remembering old ones. 

His walk back to the dormitories was lonely and pensive, and that was when he saw him – Daniel – standing a few yards away. He almost tripped over his feet. He honestly thought he would have a couple more days to himself before having to face the defender.

Daniel stood up, as if to acknowledge Fernando’s arrival. It was too late for Fernando to turn around and take another route back to his dorm so he continued on his way until their paths crossed. His fists clenched, though, and his shoulders tensed as he went on his guard.

“Hey,” Daniel spoke first.

“Hey.”

“Welcome back.”

Fernando nodded in acknowledgment but didn’t answer. They took a moment to assess each other. Daniel looked thinner somehow, greyer despite the summer tan. He had shaved his hair into a Mohawk, just like all those pop stars on TV nowadays, but Fernando had to admit that he pulled it off.

“Enrolled?” Daniel asked.

“Yeah.”

Dan risked a smile. “That’s good.”

Again, Fernando didn’t respond to the line, instead steering the conversation to a swift end. “I should go.”

He took a couple of steps down the road but then – “Wait,” Daniel interjected softly – and then he couldn’t continue on his way. It was like a force held him back.

“I’ve been wanting to see you since we broke up. Can we talk? The last time, it didn’t end so well.”

A rare moment of sincerity and initiative from Daniel – right when it didn’t matter anymore.

“Talking won’t change what happened between us.”

“It could.”

“I’m not sure I want it to.”

Daniel had been prepared for this eventuality, but it still pained him to hear it. Was he the only one who was heartbroken? Regretful? One summer in Spain, and Fernando was all fixed up?

“Then we won’t change things then,” Daniel said. Five minutes into this conversation and he was already bargaining. “We can just talk. Hash things out. Clear the air.”

Fernando laughed dryly. “And what good would that do?”

“Closure.”

The Spaniard was still hesitant so Daniel reasoned out. “We’re going to have to find a way to live with each other. We share the same friends, the same classes, the same football team. You can’t just walk away every time you see me.”

“Closure,” Fernando echoed. That could be a nice thing to have. To leave Daniel behind completely, knowing there was nothing left unsaid. To be able to move in the same circles without difficulty since there was nothing to feel anymore.

“What do you say?” Daniel broached the topic gently as Fernando seemed to open up to the idea. “Dinner tomorrow night?”

Fernando started walking again, faster now, and Daniel had to jog to keep up with him. “Come on now, you know I’m going to follow you all the way back to the dorm until you give me an answer.”

Fernando sighed, a gush of air that came deep from the pit of his stomach. “One dinner to completely end everything and after that, we’re done.”

That wasn’t Daniel’s plan exactly but he would have said anything to get a yes from Fernando. He nodded his head vigorously.

Fernando squeezed his eyes shut. He was regretting this already. “Okay.”

“Yes? Is that a yes?”

“I said okay, didn’t I?” Fernando snapped.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

“God, Daniel, if you ask me again, I’m cancelling the dinner.”

Even just hearing Fernando say his name again was glorious. “No, no, no, okay, I get it, I was just making sure,” Daniel assured.

“This isn’t a date,” the striker pointed out.

“Understood.”

Fernando nodded. “Good.”

They were now in front of the dormitories. Fernando turned to leave but Daniel risked holding on to his shoulder. “Listen, it was nice seeing you,” he said shyly.

Fernando just glared at him then walked up to his building without saying goodbye.

*

_Finns  
Sender: Daniel Agger, 5:09 PM_

_I don’t even know if I’m happy or horrified that Fernando’s back  
Sender: Daniel Agger, 5:09 PM_

_Fuuuck  
Sender: Daniel Agger, 5:09 PM_

_I’m dying  
Sender: Daniel Agger, 5:09 PM_

_New York is fine, our flat is great, thanks for asking.  
Sender: Stephen Finnan, 5:10 PM_

_Sorry  
Sender: Daniel Agger, 5:11 PM_

_I just don’t know what to do  
Sender: Daniel Agger, 5:11 PM_

_We’re having dinner tonight and I’ve never done this before  
Sender: Daniel Agger, 5:11 PM_

_You know, you don’t have to send a new message for every new thought. You can just use a period. When did you stop using punctuation?  
Sender: Stephen Finnan, 5:13 PM_

_Fuck off Finns  
Sender: Daniel Agger, 5:14 PM_

_I’m in crisis here  
Sender: Daniel Agger, 5:14 PM_

_!!! – there have some punctuation  
Sender: Daniel Agger, 5:14 PM_

_God, I’ve been away one day and you’re already having a meltdown. Are you always this insufferable when I’m not around?  
Sender: Stephen Finnan, 5:15 PM_

_Yes  
Sender: Daniel Agger, 5:16 PM_

_Is that what you wanted to hear?  
Sender: Daniel Agger, 5:16 PM_

_Look, just have a good, honest talk with Fernando once and for all. Whether you get back together or stay broken up, there’s a lot you need to talk about. This conversation is long overdue.  
Sender: Stephen Finnan, 5:17 PM_

_I don’t know what to say  
Sender: Daniel Agger, 5:17 PM_

_I’m no good at talking you know that  
Sender: Daniel Agger, 5:17 PM_

_No, that’s just your excuse because you like avoiding these discussions. Of course you know what to talk about. We’ve re-enacted this conversation so many times already: you’re sorry, you’re an asshole, you like him – genuinely – and you want another chance.  
Sender: Stephen Finnan, 5:17 PM_

_He’s not going to believe me  
Sender: Daniel Agger, 5:18 PM_

_Well, that’s just a risk you’re going to have to take. At least you tried, which is something you never did before.  
Sender: Stephen Finnan, 5:19 PM_

_Above all, Danny, if Fernando says no and turns you away, you have to respect it. If you don’t get your way, please control your temper. For the love of god and all that is holy, I know you’re vulnerable but you can’t let it get the best of you.  
Sender: Stephen Finnan, 5:20 PM_

_Control my temper? Do I get frustrated that easily?  
Sender: Daniel Agger, 5:21 PM_

_YES.  
Sender: Stephen Finnan, 5:21 PM_

*

It was liberating preparing for a non-date. Fernando literally just threw on a clean shirt, dusted off his jeans from yesterday and didn’t even have to bother with leather shoes. He headed to the Albert Dock at half-past 7, as agreed. He had let Daniel arrange the dinner to minimise their interaction in the run-up to tonight. It turned out to be a mistake.

Daniel was standing in front of a restaurant called George V and even from the outside, Fernando could tell the place was posh – nothing he’d ever been to with their friends. Worse, it looked so intimate with its small round tables, old lamps and deep, red carpets.

It was a date place, pure and simple. Daniel was taking him to a date place for their non-date. He even looked all scrubbed and well-polished for tonight. He wore a button-down shirt, his jeans were crisp and he actually bothered with the leather shoes. Fernando suddenly felt underdressed for dinner.

Daniel waved at him feebly. They exchanged the customary high-five that turned into a handshake and then morphed into an awkward half-hug. Fernando pulled away stiffly.

“Isn’t this a little too much? We don’t need to do anything fancy.”

Daniel’s face fell. “But I already reserved us a table.”

Oh, god. Of course it was the type of restaurant that needed reservations.

Still, the thought of Daniel calling ahead of time and booking a table for two made Fernando feel… funny.

“Fine.” And just to be polite, he added, “The place looks great.” Daniel instantly beamed with pride.

It was a strange, new feeling, going through the motions of what could have been a date: entering the restaurant together, getting seated in a cosy booth, comparing orders. Daniel passed Fernando the bread basket and Fernando filled up Daniel’s glass with water. Their hands brushed when they reached for the bar list at the same time.

Fernando coughed. “I think I’m going to need a pint.”

Daniel looked just as uneasy. “Make that two, please,” he told the waitress.

The waitress left and then suddenly, it was just the two of them again. Fernando leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest to re-establish a sense of distance.

“So, how was your vacation?” Daniel asked.

“Good.”

“How was Madrid?”

“Good.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. Fernando sighed and tried to put in more effort. “ _Really_ good.”

The defender’s jaw clenched visibly and Fernando thought that Daniel would snap at him. He glared back at him, as if daring him to start something. Fernando wasn’t backing down from a fight. If Daniel was going to complain that he was being uncooperative, Fernando sure as hell had more things to complain about. Starting with how Daniel was treating this like a date when Fernando had clearly stated this wasn’t one. And this wasn’t even going into the entire year of his life he wasted chasing after this boy, only to be turned away again and again.

Fuck. Fernando had long thought these issues were dead and buried – he was supposed to be moving on – but somehow they were stirring to life. 

Instead of taking the bait, though, Daniel did something Fernando never saw him do before: he let it go. The Dane took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders back, and when he looked at Fernando again, he was calm. Patient.

Daniel was holding on tightly to Finns’ words – respect Fernando’s decisions; control your temper; _try_. If Fernando was still uncomfortable, it would be up to him to make him feel better.

“Pre-season training has been surprisingly difficult,” Daniel began. He didn’t know how to start a conversation under these hostile circumstances, so he pretended like he was talking to Carra in the locker room or to his mom, after school, as they prepared dinner. “Rafa brought in a new team of physios and dieticians, and they’re obsessed. We have a new schedule: we meet up for team breakfast then training, team lunch and then fitness work.”

It seemed to work. Fernando’s body language was still aloof, but he was listening.

“That’s basically half a day of football, twice a week, in the middle of summer.”

“That’s crazy,” Fernando said. Short and grudging, but it was a response. Daniel pushed on.

“I think that’s the reward we get for finishing second last season.”

Their second-place finish last season was the highest they had ever reached. While their rival school in Manchester ended up on top, they ran them close until the very last game. It hurt, as always, to see their worst enemies win, but there was still a sense of great achievement last season.

He continued, “I kind of understand Rafa’s point, though. Don’t you feel like the team’s just going to get better? Sami and a couple of others are leaving, but we have more than enough cover. We have Stevie, Carra and Xabi for one last year – the spine of the team is solid.”

Fernando bit his lip and nodded, “No, definitely. This is our season, I can feel it.”

They shared small, hopeful smiles. Football was a neutral enough topic.

“God, I can’t believe there’s even a thing as team breakfast,” Fernando said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, the new dietician said they wanted to be able to control two out of three of our meals so we don’t come back overweight when the season starts,” Daniel replied. “If you haven’t heard, we’re only allowed to drink lemon water now. Not even just regular water – _lemon water_.”

Fernando actually chuckled. “I guess we’ll have to keep it secret that we’re drinking beer tonight.”

Daniel’s nerves eased as Fernando loosened up. He raised his pint, “Cheers?” For a split-second, he was scared Fernando would ignore him, but the Spaniard raised his pint too. “Cheers.” They clinked their glasses together then drank.

The food arrived and the conversation continued well throughout dinner. Daniel did most of the talking – he knew the burden fell on him to make sure the night went well. He was the one who begged for this chance to be with Fernando, and he didn’t want the Spaniard to regret saying yes.

He told him about how Carra finally asked out the girl he's had a crush on since sixth grade, or how Lucas improved significantly over the summer that he's started in Xabi's place in some of the training matches, or how Sami was offered an internship with the coaching staff while he took a gap year.

“Anyway, how about you?” Daniel said, “Tell me about your vacation.”

Fernando faltered as the conversation shifted to him. He had been playing it safe, letting the Dane take the lead while he tested the waters but now it felt like he was being shoved in. Caught by surprise, he fell back on his typical answer – “It was good.”

A flicker of hurt on Daniel’s face, a word that was barely whispered: “Please.” They were a long way away from who they once were: Daniel, emotional; Fernando, evasive.

Fernando took a deep breath and gave it another shot. “I saw my family again after a year, which was great. It was the longest I’ve been away. I really missed them.”

Daniel leaned forward and nodded, just open and listening.

Fernando was still hesitant but he continued. “My older sister and brother were also away for university so it was like a grand reunion at home. My parents were in such a good mood to have us all back, they let us do anything we wanted. They took us to the beach, let us stay out late, cooked us all the food we missed. It was amazing.”

“I’m so jealous, I haven’t been to the beach in the longest time.”

“And the sun! God, I missed the sun. There were actually times that I thought it was too hot. I wasn’t used to it anymore.”

“Consider yourself lucky because there was just a storm here last week, on the exact day of Harry and Finns’ farewell party.”

“The party sounded great though.”

Daniel puffed out his chest. “Why thank you, I organised that.”

Fernando laughed, his jaw dropping. “I don’t believe you. You? Organising… anything?”

“Yeah! I had to fix the food and the decorations and the venue and everything.”

“That only means you ordered around Finns’ house help.”

“Which still required a measure of leadership,” Daniel pointed out.

Fernando relented, “Impressive.”

“I’m telling you – I’ve changed.”

Fernando took a long sip of his drink. _So I’ve heard_ , he wanted to say.

The bill arrived and before Fernando could take a look at it, Daniel snatched it for himself.

“It’s on me,” he said, already pulling out his wallet.

“Daniel, no!” Fernando protested, holding out his hand. “We’re splitting it.”

“No,” Daniel said, putting a couple of bills on the tray and handing it back to the waiter.

Fernando sighed and took out his wallet too. “This isn’t a date. We agreed.”

“I know. But consider dinner my peace offering,” Daniel said.

Fernando wasn’t convinced and he tried to hand Daniel some money, but the defender just pushed it back.

“Look, if it makes you feel better, you can treat us to coffee or drinks.”

Fernando was torn. He had agreed to dinner and dinner alone – a casual, neutral, meaningless dinner. But it felt like there was so much they still needed to talk about. The first part of the night had gone well enough anyway. At least if they went out for coffee or drinks and he paid, it would feel less like Daniel took him out? That was such bad argumentation.

“Well?” Daniel prompted. “Or we can call it a night, if you want.”

Fernando relented. “Fine, let’s get coffee. My treat.”

*

Fernando had made himself a couple of rules for this night: no memories, no feelings, and absolutely no kissing. While he hadn’t broken the third rule -- the most important rule – he was losing sight of the other two.

“You didn’t tell me what kind of coffee you wanted so I just took a guess,” Fernando said as he balanced the two steaming mugs on a small tray. Daniel pulled out the chair for him so he could take a seat.

“Well, it looks like you guessed right,” Daniel said, as he peered into the mug set in front of him. The coffee was inky black. He bent down so he could inhale the rich, bitter aroma.

Fernando’s cheeks burned. It was hardly a guess, really. How many times had they both pretended to be too early for History class just so they could share coffee in the cafeteria in the morning? Fernando knew by heart that Daniel took his coffee plain – no sugar, no milk, no foam. Daniel thought it made him edgy. Fernando always teased that it only made him less prone to diabetes and more prone to caffeine addiction.

“And you got your cappuccino, of course,” Daniel said. 

It turned out Daniel knew by heart how he took his coffee too.

Fernando looked out from their table on the balcony, enjoying the view of the peaceful Mersey down below.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? Do you remember that Dirk was the one who recommended this to us before?”

Fernando made a noncommittal sound to avoid having to answer but of course he remembered. He probably remembered it better than Daniel.

It was the day before their away game to Birmingham, and they had all camped out in Dirk’s hotel room after training. The beds and couches had all been occupied by their other teammates as they watched football games on TV so Fernando and Daniel stole one of the extra blankets and laid down on the floor. Dirk had told them about his date the other day and told the two that they should try out the café they visited.

“Sounds good,” Fernando had said, leaning his head against Daniel’s shoulder.

“Let’s go there one of these days,” Daniel had murmured into Fernando’s hair.

That day never really came around.

“Fernando?” Daniel asked, waving his hand in front of the Spaniard’s face. “Are you still there?”

No, he wasn’t there. He was in the past where everything was beautiful and nothing hurt. _Dammit_ , Fernando cursed himself. This was why he wanted to avoid memories. All throughout summer, he had built a solid wall around the past to prevent him from looking back at his relationship with Daniel. That wall was crumbling like sand.

“The name of the café does sound familiar,” Fernando said.

“I think we were away to Birmingham. Or was it Newcastle?” Daniel admitted, embarrassed, “Those were my favourite moments. Those trips to away games.”

That remark struck Fernando as odd. “Those trips? Don’t they bore you?”

He hated those trips. They sat on the bus for hours, and his legs would feel so creaky afterwards. They stayed in small hotels with little to no entertainment, and they weren’t allowed to go out after training since they needed to preserve their energy for the game.

“Well, we got to share a room most of the time.”

Fernando was still confused. It wasn’t like they could get up to anything in their hotel room since the curfew was strict and rest was crucial before match day.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Daniel smirked. “But believe it or not, I actually enjoyed the quiet nights. Do you remember doing our homework together and _still_ getting all the answers wrong?”

Fernando couldn’t help but snigger. “Oh god, and we’d have to get Xabi to check our solutions because none of our final answers would be in the choices?”

“I also liked spending the night just sharing your bed and reading books,” Daniel said, with a shy, nostalgic smile partly hidden behind his mug of coffee. “I still don’t know how you managed to finish the Lord of the Rings, by the way.”

“They’re amazing books!”

“They’re amazingly difficult to read, that’s what they are. Half the time, it’s just some elf singing a song that’s three chapters long.”

“They don’t sing all the time!”

They were laughing now. Good, deep, carefree peals of laughter. Fernando released a contented sigh. He could stay here all night, just being with Daniel. They were separated for a month, damaged for even longer, but they met for one night and it was like nothing had ever gone wrong. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Daniel asked.

Fernando averted his gaze; he didn’t even know he had been staring. “You just seem different, that’s all.”

“I told you, I’ve changed.”

 _Changed_ – Fernando let that word roll around his tongue for a while. It was such a simple and easy word to say, but he dared not speak it out loud. It did feel like this was a different Daniel this time around – it felt a lot like the Daniel he was supposed to fall in love with.

*

“You’ve gone quiet,” Daniel said as they walked back to the bus stop. The docks were empty now. The crowds had long gone and the bars and restaurants had closed shop hours ago.

“I’m not quiet,” Fernando protested, the lie sounding hollow even to his ears. He hugged himself as the wind picked up a chill. “It just got cold.” He kept his head bowed, refusing to meet Daniel’s eyes. He knew the other boy was trying to read him.

The sensation of something light falling on his shoulders made Fernando look up, surprised. Daniel had reached out and draped his jacket around him. The Spaniard froze, afraid to lean into the touch. He held his breath until Daniel pulled back.

The rest of the walk was quiet, the atmosphere charged. Fernando clung onto the lapels of the jacket to keep it from sliding off him. It wrapped him in a cloud of Daniel’s cologne that reminded him of innocent flirtation across the school halls, sweaty pick-up games in the park, long nights curled together in bed.

“Do you want me to accompany you home?” Daniel asked. Anfield High was down the opposite side of the city, but he knew that Stevie always brought Fernando back to the dormitories when they went out. It made him bristle that Stevie thought of these things and he never did.

“God, Daniel, what are you doing? What is this?” Fernando cracked quietly.

“What do you mean? I’m just trying to…”

Fernando shook his head, pointed out, “We’re not supposed to be trying.”

Daniel’s jaw dropped. He’d been treading carefully all evening, trying to make sure everything went well. And just when things were going smoothly, he stumbled at the finish line.

“I’m not…” he stammered, scrambling to cover his bases, but he knew he was found out. This night, he promised, would be one of closure. And yet here he was trying to strike a path back in, carve out another beginning.

Daniel slumped, a silent admission of fault. “God, I’m sorry. I just don’t know how to act, where to place myself. I’ve never done this before.”

Even Daniel’s apologies were perfect down to the letter. Who was this man? Fernando let the issue go. “It’s fine, I understand. I feel a little bit lost too.”

The defender smiled, relieved. “Well, I’ll let you go then. You might miss curfew.”

Daniel seemed so gentle, so _loving_ with that smile that Fernando found himself smiling back. He slipped off the defender’s jacket and handed it back to him, “Thanks.”

“Come here,” Daniel said, stepping closer to Fernando, holding out one arm. Fernando let himself fall into Daniel’s embrace, and they hugged tightly. Fernando literally felt his worries melting away, and he felt safe, Daniel’s body warm against his.

He murmured, “We survived this night.”

“We should do it again sometime.”

Daniel gave him one last squeeze. They began to pull apart but somehow lingered, Daniel’s hands clasping Fernando’s shoulders, Fernando cheek to cheek with Daniel. Fernando didn’t realise how close they were until he felt Daniel’s breath tickling the shell of his ear.

 _No kissing_ , Fernando wanted to murmur to remind Daniel and to remind himself. Before he could do anything, though, Daniel turned his head and then suddenly his lips were on his. It wasn’t even shock that kept Fernando in place – it felt a lot like instinct, stirring deep in his chest.

The kiss was faint, barely there, and when Fernando blinked, Daniel had pulled away. “Good night,” he said, and then he was gone.

Fernando didn’t know how long he stood there in the bus stop, stock-still and blank. His fingers drifted up to his lips, still warm from the kiss. The kiss. They kissed.

_Oh, shit._


	21. Try

Fernando had planned to stay in bed the entire day and mope, hide from Daniel and wait until it was a decent enough time in New York so he could call Harry. Halfway through the afternoon, though, he was roused from uneasy sleep by a persistent knock on the door.

Cold spread all over his body. What if that was Daniel? They haven’t talked since the kiss and Fernando was dreading having to explain himself. He had toiled for weeks, months, to show Daniel that he didn’t need him anymore, wouldn’t tolerate his bullshit any longer, didn’t want him back. A dinner and a coffee later, he had his heart in hand again.

It was a moment of weakness and Daniel pounced on weakness like a predator. After their non-date – Fernando scoffed at how he still termed it a non-date in his head when it was well and truly a date – the defender had started texting him again, like they weren’t reeling from the break-up. It was an assortment of “Did you get home okay?” and “Thanks again for seeing me. It was good to see you.” and his hatest yet, “I had a Nutella sandwich for breakfast, just remembered you, haha.”

Daniel thought they were okay again – _together_ again – and Fernando had lost his moral high ground to tell him otherwise.

The knocking pulled him out of his thoughts. He kept still, not making a sound. Maybe Daniel would think he wasn’t home and walk away.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” More knocking, thumping now.

Fernando jumped. That didn’t sound like Daniel at all. He clambered out of bed and threw open the door. It was a stranger – a tall boy with a shaved head and an underbite that made him look unpleasant, almost mean.

“Uh, hi?”

The boy forced a smile, although he clearly didn’t appreciate standing outside in the hallway for a good ten minutes. He gestured to several boxes on the floor, with labels Fernando didn’t understand. “Hey, I’m your new roommate. I left a message with the dorm monitor yesterday that I’d drop by today to bring in some of my things.”

Fernando groaned, embarrassed. He hadn’t stopped by the reception to check his messages last night after he went out with Daniel. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. Come in, come in.”

Martin wiped his hand on his jeans and extended it to Fernando. “I’m Martin Skrtel.”

Fernando took his hand and shook it. The other boy’s grip bordered on painful. “I’m Fernando Torres. Sorry about making you wait. I fell asleep.” 

Martin flashed him another forced smile and didn’t respond, not even to accept his apology. It threw Fernando off. He was trying to be nice here. He took one last stab at politeness. “Well, this will be your closet. And those over there will be the shelves,” he said, putting on his best tour guide grin, gesturing around the room with a flourish.

Martin wasn’t even looking at him. He was bent over one of his boxes, rummaging through his things. “Okay,” he said distractedly.

“I’m trying to help you here, you know,” Fernando couldn’t help snapping.

Martin straightened up, eyebrow crooked like he was baffled at Fernando’s efforts. “Harry already showed those to me when I visited here the first time.”

Fernando’s jaw dropped at the bite in Martin’s tone, like he was the one being inconvenienced by the Spaniard’s presence. 

As if sensing his roommate’s impending outburst, Martin immediately offered, “But thank you for the tip anyway.” He dropped the thank you like they were alms for the beggar who just wouldn’t go away.

If that wasn’t bad enough, Martin added, “Harry told me you’d be needy.”

And it was the type of thing that Harry could say and Fernando would know it was a joke, lovingly said with bitter experience. But he didn’t know Martin and Martin didn’t know him. He didn’t have the right.

“Fucker,” Fernando said. He had planned to lend Martin a hand with unpacking, but why bother. He stepped over one of Martin’s boxes haughtily and left the room with his phone. Time zones be damned, he was calling Harry.

It took a while for the Australian to answer his phone, but when he finally did, he wasn’t happy. “What the fuck, Nando, this had better be good. I was counting on a few more hours of sleep!”

Fernando heard a muffled “shut up and let me sleep, babe,” and he could imagine Finns curled up around his boyfriend, still deep in slumber.

Fernando felt a tinge of guilt but it was fleeting. Harry was used to him by now. He knew the Spaniard could be demanding – “needy.”

“Why did you not warn me that Martin Skrtel is an asshole? Where the fuck did they find this guy?” He yelled down the phone, pacing the hallway back and forth. He didn’t care if his new roommate could hear him.

“Oh, god, it’s one of those tantrums,” Harry said. He heard rustling as the Australian got out of bed, the opening and closing of the door as he moved to the living room where they could talk properly.

“Yes, it’s one of those tantrums,” Fernando said. “He dropped by today to start moving in. I was so nice to him and he just brushed me off, that fucking prick, acted like he was the one who owned the place.”

Harry yawned tiredly. “What do you want me to do? Maybe you can try asking the dorm for a switch, but I don’t think they allow that.”

“Oh, god. I’m going to be in this school for two more years. I’m going to have to live with Martin for that long?”

“Yes, unfortunately.” Harry said, “Look, maybe it’s just a one-off. You’ll warm up to each other soon.”

“I doubt it. He’s an arrogant bastard.”

Harry chortled evilly.

“What was that laugh?” Fernando demanded.

“Yeah, Martin is an arrogant bastard – a lot like Daniel, don’t you think?”

“Fuck off.”

“My bet was either you would love him or you would hate him.”

Fernando’s face turned red and even without seeing him, Harry knew something was up. “Speaking of the devil – have you and Daniel met up yet? What happened?”

Fernando sat down on floor right outside his room as he told Harry the story. He had just said the word “non-date” and Harry already interrupted, “That’s a bad idea.”

“We just wanted to talk,” Fernando explained in a small voice.

“What else is there to talk about? Everything you needed to say to each other, you already said when you both uttered the words ‘let’s break up.’”

Fernando covered his face with his hands. If Harry had still been here, he could have warned him before he said yes to Daniel.

“There’s something else,” the Spaniard said, his voice getting even smaller.

A stony silence on the other end of the line.

“We…” Fernando took a deep breath, “Daniel kissed me and I let him.”

The silence stretched on and on. If it wasn’t for Harry’s deep breathing, Fernando would have thought the call had been cut. He cringed as he prepared for the onslaught.

“Why did you kiss?” Harry spoke slowly, deeply, digging out each word from his chest. 

“I… We…” Fernando scratched his nails against the rough carpeting as if he could physically scrape together an answer. He couldn’t. “I know the rules and I listed them in my head but then… but then I broke them.”

Harry sighed, and it was like he was right there in front of Fernando, standing above him with his hands on his hips, angry and disappointed.

He didn’t have the time or the patience to go through the entire lecture for Fernando, so he laid down the bottom line instead. “If you don’t want Daniel back, you have to take back that kiss and then keep your distance from now on. Otherwise, it’s not fair to you or him.”

“I understand,” Fernando said. “But Harry?”

“Yes?”

“If I want him back?”

It was quiet for a while – a heavy quiet.

Harry had been won over by Daniel throughout the summer but he had witnessed their relationship for much longer. He worried for Fernando. It had taken him so long to leave the sinking ship before. What if it took him down this time?

“If you want him back,” Harry said, taking care not to lean to one side or the other, “then the kiss shouldn’t be a fast pass into the relationship. You two have to work on it to make sure things are better this time around.”

Fernando was dreading that answer. He was hoping for direction. “Harry, tell me what to do.”

“Babe, I can’t. Since this began, all we’ve done is tell you what you should do with Daniel, but it’s time you decided for yourself.”

Harry’s voice was so warm, even from far away, like a blanket that Fernando wanted to wrap around himself. From his position on the floor, he could see Martin in their dorm room, taking down some of Harry’s old books from the shelves so he could fit some of his own.

“Besides,” the Australian said, “When you know the decision is yours, it makes it easier to stand by, especially when things get lonely, painful – because they will.”

Fernando nodded. He understood what Harry needed to do. He couldn’t walk the Spaniard down the right path anymore, if there even was one. Fernando had to find it himself. Harry would just give him a gentle nudge, at most.

“Anyway, since I’m up, I probably should start preparing breakfast for us since Finns can’t cook for shit.”

Fernando laughed. “Thanks for taking my call so early in the morning.”

“Sure thing,” Harry said. He immediately qualified, “But let’s not make this a habit.”

Fernando peeked inside his room to see if it was safe to return. Martin had unpacked most boxes but he still wasn’t done. This time, he was hanging his heavy coats in Harry’s old closet.

“I miss you,” Fernando sighed before he even realised he said it out loud.

“I miss you too, kiddo.”

*

Fernando still hadn’t made up his mind by the time he showed up at Daniel’s doorstep unannounced. He didn’t think he was going to make up his mind anytime soon, not until he opened his mouth and the words tumbled out and he would just have to stand by them.

Daniel’s mother answered the door, a woman in her late 40s, pale and patrician. Fernando instinctively shrank away. Whenever they were at Daniel’s house, he deliberately kept his distance from Mrs Agger. They couldn’t afford to get caught, and his frequent visits that stretched late into the night were already suspicious.

Mrs Agger was in a good mood today, though. An apron was tied around her slim waist and powdered sugar was clumped on the back of her hands. “Hello, Fernando,” she greeted. “Let me get Danny for you.”

Fernando heard the slow, dainty steps up the stairs and then the loud, thumping ones going down. Daniel emerged, half-running down the hallway, unprepared for the surprise visit. When he saw the Spaniard, he slowed to a casual walk and his panicked expression smoothed over. Fernando had to giggle at his need to be cool.

“Hey,” Daniel said. “What brings you over?”

Good question. Fernando looked down, his scruffy sneakers facing Dan’s bare feet. “I was hoping to see you,” he said.

“Oh,” Daniel said, surprised but flattered. “You could have told me beforehand. I would have cleaned up, at least.”

Daniel’s hair was unstyled and flat. His t-shirt had a big hole along the shoulder where the seams had long pulled apart. His baggy cargo shorts were fashionable three years ago and then never again.

Fernando chuckled, “I kind of like it.”

The tips of Daniel’s ears went pink. The ice cold Dane actually blushing – over an offhand compliment, of all things. Who would have thought?

They went out to the backyard to make the most of the weather. The sun was out, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, the birds were all a-chirping. Daniel spread out an old blanket under the tree, and Mrs Agger even brought out a jug of peach iced tea for the two of them.

It was unnatural how perfect it all was. Fernando wished he could just relax and take it in, put off his worries for another day.

Daniel was spread out on the blanket beside him, his arm flung across his eyes to shield them from the sun. He looked so content. Later on, Fernando would think back on this moment and wonder why he threw it away so easily.

Daniel opened one eye lazily. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Fernando wanted to take a picture of Daniel at that moment. The brightness of his smile, the bonelessness of his body. “I’m sorry I kissed you,” he said.

The confession was lost on Daniel. He only quipped, “I’m not.”

Fernando sighed. It was hard enough to strike first, but Dan was forcing him to keep on digging. “I’m being serious. We shouldn’t have kissed, and if I could take it back, I would.”

Daniel woke up now, although he was still lost. He propped himself up on his elbows. “What are you saying? I thought we had a great time the other night.”

“We did,” Fernando said. “But it doesn’t change anything. We broke up for a reason.”

Daniel was already shaking his head before the Spaniard even finished talking. He scooted on his knees to move closer to the other boy, taking his hands in his. “I know I didn’t treat you as well as I should have, and I’m sorry for that, I really am. But I’m different now. You believe me when I say that, right?”

Fernando wanted to say yes if only to affirm Daniel. He was staring at him with wide, pleading eyes, a five-year-old boy holding up his work – look, I am patient; look, I am kind! – and waiting for his gold star.

“You have changed. But we went out once.”

“Then let’s spend more time together. Let me take you out, we can take it slow. I don’t care how long it takes.”

It was such a good deal: to be with Daniel with no guarantee of staying. If he liked it, then he would take it. If he grew sick of it, then he could leave. And whatever happened, Daniel would be just right there, waiting for him.

He wouldn’t have to go through all this trouble of moving on – avoiding each other in training, making their friends take sides, stalking each other online and wondering if one is having a better time than the other. It would be so, so easy. And yet, it was also so, so unfair.

“I can’t do that,” Fernando said. “That was my life the past year, and it was shit. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, not even you.”

“You can’t even give me a second chance?”

“Second chance? This must be the fourth, the fifth… It’s so easy to keep asking for chances, not so much giving them.”

Daniel’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t believe his ears. “So, what, we’re over? Just like that?”

“We were over when we broke up months ago.”

Daniel’s eyes blazed and he bared his teeth in a snarl. Fernando forgot how intimidating the defender could be when he was angry. “You mean, when you just upped and left without telling me.”

Fernando flinched. There it was: his biggest mistake being flung to his face. So he left, but that didn’t make him as guilty as Daniel. It shouldn’t even the score.

“I didn’t know how to tell you! Besides, we had broken up. I didn’t need to tell you!”

“Oh, spare me the excuses, Fernando. You didn’t want to tell me because you knew it would hurt me,” Daniel spat. “And it did.”

“That’s not true!” Fernando yelled back, his voice breaking. 

“So, now that you’ve spent your summer in Spain, do you feel much better?” Dan said, the words edged and dripping with sarcasm. “You’re over me, is that it?”

Daniel could see Fernando capitulating, his sense of victimization and righteousness crumpling. Somehow, that goaded him even more. He had been so heartbroken when Fernando left – heartbroken and angry.

“It’s because of Raul, isn’t it?” The moment he dropped the name, Fernando’s defeat was complete. He saw it in his face, his complete surrender. “He’s perfect and your first love and now that you’ve fucked him again, no one else can compare. Surely not me!”

And then he was just laughing, laughing bitterly. “You’re too good for me now, right? I don’t deserve you!”

The next thing he knew, he was thrown on his side, his face stinging. Fernando stood up, towering over him, his palm red and his hand shaking.

“Fuck you,” he said. “You wanted closure, right? Here’s your closure. We’re horrible together. Breaking up was the one thing we got right.”

Daniel grabbed at Fernando’s ankle to keep him from leaving, but the other boy just stumbled over him. “No, we’re not yet finished!” He shouted.

“We are _finished_ ,” Fernando said, shaking his head. “You haven’t changed at all.”

Daniel blinked and Fernando had run away. The sky had gone dark, the iced tea had bled all over the blanket and it smelled like rain. His mother was calling him inside. The perfect day was over.

*

There was no preparing Fernando for seeing Daniel again. He had visualised the situations in his head, acted out the dialogues, but when the day came around, he still wasn’t ready.

Today, Fernando had to join pre-season training with the rest of the team, but he couldn’t even peel himself out of bed. He awoke in a cold sweat.

He barely made it to the locker room in time -- 7:26 AM. Everyone was already there and changed in their workout clothes. Since they had long begun pre-season training while he was in Spain, his teammates were all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

Rafa intercepted him before he could slink to his locker, tsking. “You have” -- the manager checked his watch -- “three minutes to get ready.” He mumbled a pathetic apology in Spanish about not feeling well so the others wouldn’t understand.

By the time he was suited up, everyone had already left. He got lost along the way too, expecting them to be out on the pitch, only to remember the new tradition that was team breakfast.

That reminded him of Daniel and his stories over dinner, and his heart sank in his chest.

The rest of the morning was just as painful, in all senses of the word.

His closest friends in the team -- Stevie, Xabi and Pepe -- could sense tension. Fernando had been avoiding them since he came back, almost as much as he’s been avoiding Daniel, since he wasn’t ready to talk about things yet. He had to sandwich himself between Lucas and Yossi, who either didn’t notice a thing or were too nice to bring it up.

Even the training was going wrong. His muscles had long memorised the exercises: the push-ups and the curl-ups, the lunges and the squats. But he had spent the entire summer eating and drinking away the days and nights. Working out had completely slipped his mind. His body creaked loudly with every stretch he made. He lagged during laps.

They lined up for drills after. Fernando had to pass the ball to Alvaro, run around a cone, receive a pass from Dirk, then shoot past Pepe into the net. He was just rounding a cone when Daniel walked past, having just finished his run. They both skidded to a stop, Dirk’s pass zipping past the two of them aimlessly.

They had both kept their distance throughout the morning that when they finally bumped into each other, it surprised them. Fernando opened his mouth -- he didn’t know what he had planned to say (Sorry? Hello?) -- but before he could say anything, Daniel looked away.

Fernando could imagine the training ground go quiet, the sound being sucked out like when you covered your ears with your hands. He could imagine everyone but Daniel staring at him, and his body growing cold. He knew none of these were happening, but they happened in his head nonetheless, in slow motion and in repeat.

“Fernando!” A loud hiss in his ear brought him out of the haze. It was Pepe, dragging him to the sidelines. “Whatever the fuck is going on between you and Daniel, you better get it out of your head until afer training.”

That Pepe, always the clown, was the one who was scolding him was embarrassing. He mumbled a pathetic apology in Spanish about not feeling well, but the goalkeeper didn’t buy it for a second.

He tried to get himself back on track during the five-a-side, until Daniel was selected for the opposing team and, naturally, was assigned to be his marker. He would have preferred it if Daniel hurt him, threw him on the ground, but he was professional and cold, blocking his runs and forcing him to give away the ball. His stomach was heavy throughout the game. He couldn’t even run properly because he felt like he would keel over and throw up.

It was no surprise that by the end of training, Rafa handed him an additional schedule: weight training before breakfast, shooting practise after lunch. “You have a lot of work to do,” he said sternly.

Stevie was waiting for him by his locker. He draped an arm around his hunched shoulders, concerned. “Are you okay? I don’t think I’ve seen you this off your game.”

Fernando sighed, “I’m just rusty.”

“Do you want to...?” Stevie began, but the striker shook his head.

He knew Stevie and Xabi were working on rebuilding their relationship, and they were doing great -- maybe even stronger than before. He didn’t want to interfere.

“I just need to sulk alone,” he joked.

Xabi approached the two of them, daring to rest his hand on the small of Stevie’s back. “You alright, Nando?”

Fernando was much closer to Stevie, but Xabi’s sense of perception was sharp. He was also Spanish so he’s likely heard from their friends back home.

“It’s nothing I can’t sleep off,” he assured.

Stevie and Xabi exchanged glances, a silent communication long practised.

“Well, if you need anything...” Stevie began.

“You can just come and talk to us,” Xabi finished for him.

*

The last thing Fernando needed when he crawled back to the dorm after another gruelling round of training was Martin Skrtel waiting outside his room. He was sat on the floor, surrounded by another batch of boxes, clearly having waited all morning for Fernando to arrive.

“Do you even bother to check your messages?” Martin asked when he arrived.

Something in Fernando snapped. The last thing he needed was someone else -- someone a lot like Daniel -- giving him shit. “As a matter of fact, I do. But you can’t just leave me a little note telling me you plan to drop by when you feel like it. I have training the entire morning and I can’t cut it short just to let you in the room. If you had bothered to put down your number or ask for mine, maybe I could have told you that.”

Martin’s eyebrow rose. Before he could rebut, though, the Spaniard kept on going. “And if you’re so keen on dealing with me through the dorm monitor, why don’t you ask them for your key since you’re moving in anyway? Nobody leaves messages in the pigeonholes anymore. We’re not in the fucking nineties!”

Fernando shoved his way past the boxes and unlocked the door, kicking it open for the both of them. Martin stared after him, mouth hanging open.

“Just do what you have to do then get out,” the Spaniard ordered, dumping his bags on the floor and throwing himself on the bed.

Martin had the decency to keep quiet for the rest of his visit.

*

It was oddly peaceful among their circles despite Daniel and Fernando having one of their biggest fights yet.

Daniel really had to stop labelling it as a “fight.” This wasn’t a tiff. This was a break-up. A rocky one, a monumental one, what songs were made of.

He had expected Fernando to tell other people about it. The Spaniard, unlike him, was a talker. If Daniel liked to retreat into himself when he had a problem, Fernando was the exact opposite -- he believed sharing his problems made them lighter.

Which was why it was unusual that no one seemed to know they had split up. Pepe, Xabi, even Lucas and Yossi, who were all close to Fernando, still acted like nothing happened. Stevie was no more hostile to him than usual. Harry and Finns hadn’t called him up yet, demanding an explanation, so it didn’t seem like Fernando had reported back to them.

It made Daniel nervous. He monitored Fernando’s Facebook and Twitter -- no sentimental posts, no angry ones, not even vague quotes and lyrics that could be about him.

It was like Fernando was moving on without so much as a look back. No word would even be uttered about either the boy or the break-up. He was shutting Daniel out of his life completely.

That angered Daniel, in the same way it angered it him when they last fought. He desperately wanted Fernando back. A string of arguments, a summer apart, those weren’t enough to make him change his mind, but apparently they were for Fernando.

The worst part was, Fernando wasn’t even giving him a fair chance. Daniel wasn’t asking if they could get back together again. He was asking if he could _try_ to convince him to get back together again. 

He wanted to spend time with Fernando, relearn everything he knew about him and discover anything he may have overlooked -- what was his earliest memory, what would he bring with him to a desert island, what did he plan to be if not a footballer?

He wanted to woo him, take him out and give him gifts, write him stupid notes and stuff them in his locker, walk him to his classes and take him home after training.

And if those weren’t enough to reignite their relationship, then -- and only then -- Daniel would accept defeat. Maybe.

“You’re clutching at straws here,” Sami said when Daniel told him this.

He figured Sami may be the best confidante. He knew the history of the two boys and being the oldest among their friends, he could give the most mature advice. It also helped that he worked in a bar and he gave Daniel a discount on his drinks.

Daniel argued, “I know I wasn’t the ideal boyfriend. I was an idiot. But I don’t know how many times I have to apologise for that.”

Sami gave him a patronising smile as if to say, fine, let the kid dig himself a deeper hole before I pull him out.

“My only point is,” Daniel said, “Fernando’s already brought me to a heel. I’m right where he wants me -- now what? He’s just gonna leave?”

Sami gave the younger boy a few seconds to mull. It was only when he was sure Daniel was done talking that he began. “I know it sucks to lose someone special. But you can’t lay the blame on anyone but yourself.”

He patted Daniel’s arm, “The sooner you accept that, the sooner you can apologise and the two of you can move on for now. Who knows? One day, maybe you’ll get your chance to try again.”

Sami poured Daniel some more beer from the tap -- a consolation prize. “On the house.”

*

On most days, Fernando was lonely.

Daniel, he realised, had planted himself firmly in his life. Whether they were flirting, fighting, fucking or falling in love, Daniel was never too far away from him. And now he was gone. It felt like there was a big, gaping hole in his chest, and it ached in its emptiness.

He thought he would go through denial and anger first, but he just jumped straight into sadness. He missed Daniel. The days were long and the nights were even longer, especially with the school year still a week away.

There were countless times when he wanted to have dinner, grab a drink or watch a movie but he realised he couldn’t just pick up the phone and invite Daniel out. He didn’t want to fall back on Stevie, Xabi or Pepe. He didn’t want to be that person that suddenly became a leech and stuck to their other friends because he was suddenly alone.

Fernando hasn’t even told anyone about the break-up, though he was sure they had an idea. He wasn’t ready to tell them yet and in a way, he didn’t want to. Retelling the story was his way of reliving it, and he had to stop doing that.

On most days, Fernando threw himself in his work. If Rafa asked him for 30 minutes of weight training, he would give him an hour. If the coaches told him to improve on dribbling with his left foot, he also made sure he focused on crossing, tackling and shooting with his left foot.

When football was done, he made himself projects to take up his time. On Monday, he cleaned out his desk. On Tuesday, he labeled his new books and notebooks. On Wednesday, he wrote long e-mails to the family...

Martin entered the dorm room just as Fernando was in the middle of his Thursday project -- fitting new sheets on the bed.

“Hey,” Martin said.

Fernando didn’t even glance at him. He focused on folding the sheets into a good, clean corner on the mattress. “Hey.”

He sensed Martin lingering by the doorway behind him. Sighing, Fernando turned around. “What?”

Martin stood there. There were no boxes with him, just a knapsack on one shoulder and a duffel bag on another. “I’m moving in.”

Inside, Fernando let out an anguished scream. If he couldn’t live with Harry, he would much rather live alone. Martin’s visits were already too much for him to handle. 

After a long pause in which it became clear that Fernando was none too thrilled about the news, he offered flatly, “Welcome.”

Martin still didn’t move. He couldn’t look Fernando in the eye. He looked like he wanted to say something but was still unsure.

Was this it? An apology? A long-winded explanation about how he wasn’t used to making friends? A plea to start again? Fernando watched him expectantly.

Martin finally opened his mouth -- Fernando held his breath -- and at the last second he shifted his gaze to the empty bed. “So, I guess this is mine, huh?”

Fernando deflated. “Yeah,” he mumbled then turned back to his work.

This was why you never gave assholes a second chance.


	22. And I'm almost finally, finally out of words

So, this was what it felt like to live alone. Martin stared up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to take him. It was impossible, though. It was only 7:30 PM.

If he was back in Slovakia, he would just be leaving the house at this time. He would meet up with his friends, maybe play video games in someone’s house or sit in the park to watch the girls taking advantage of the long summer days.

But, he was in Liverpool. His parents, who had accompanied him for a few weeks as he finished his move, had gone home, leaving him very much alone. So far, he only knew three places in the city. His dorm, the school gym and the convenience store right outside the campus.

Martin had survived his first few days by himself. He had a lot of things to do: unpack his things, fix his transfer papers, send e-mails to his friends back home. One by one, these tasks fell from the list and he found himself in that lull between the enrolment season and the school year. 

He never thought he’d say this, but he wished classes would start already. He was getting restless with nothing to do. This morning, he walked around the sprawling campus to get to know the buildings. In the afternoon, he jogged the same route to keep his fitness levels up.

At least once classes started and he joined the football team, he would actually have other people to talk to. So far, he only had Fernando, and they weren’t exactly on speaking terms.

He probably had to take the blame for that one. Cranky was his default mood, and he got even testier when he wasn’t in his comfort zone which, right now, was the entire city of Liverpool.

Although he didn’t expect Fernando to be so sensitive about it either. He just put him down a couple of times. It wasn’t even personal.

Sometimes he thought of apologising to his roommate but the idea of reaching out to someone, asking for forgiveness, imploring for company – Martin shuddered. He wasn’t that person.

And so, for now, he was that person that was alone in his dorm room on a perfectly good summer night. The entire dorm was quiet and Fernando had left an hour ago. There was probably a party somewhere, an event he didn’t know about or wasn’t invited to.

Martin sighed. Self-pity was so unattractive. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to sleep again.

*

It was the type of party that never really got off the ground. One of the sophomores in the basketball team organised the event, so the crowd was a mixed bag. The younger students were overexcited, the older ones were unimpressed.

“Why are we even here?” Daniel asked.

There was a loud whoop from the other side of the room as the tennis team started a drinking game. Three boys and a girl raced to chug down a can of beer. Daniel didn’t even know the school had a tennis team.

Carra raised an eyebrow at them too. “The free alcohol, if I remember correctly.”

“Oh, yeah.”

The others shrugged in resignation, clinked their plastic cups together. Summer was coming to a close and monthly allowances were running dry. They could hardly afford any more nights out until school began.

They sorely missed Finns’ parties where they had all the food and drink they wanted, in a mansion that was both spacious and private. Tonight’s party was in a roomy enough house, but with 80 people crammed inside, the air had turned dank and smelled of sweat. The ice in the coolers had long melted, leaving the beers lukewarm.

Fernando went outside to cool down, but the air was still and muggy. His shirt stuck cloyingly to his skin.

He was getting better at being around Daniel. He had no choice – they saw each other in training, team meetings, group dinners and parties. Once school started, they would see each other in class and extra-curriculars. It was the downside of moving in such small, exclusive circles.

An unspoken arrangement was drawn up between the two boys. If Daniel was with a group of their friends, Fernando stayed away, and vice versa. If everybody was together, they kept apart. If they had to address each other directly, they kept it short and casual. Nobody seemed to mind.

The porch door swung noisily on its hinges, announcing the arrival of a visitor. It was Xabi. He still looked fresh, with his button-down still crisp, no stain of sweat on the fabric. Fernando was wilted beside him.

“Missing the party?” Xabi asked. He took a seat next to the younger boy on the steps of the patio, leading to the backyard.

Fernando shrugged. “It was getting too crowded.”

He thought that Xabi just chanced upon him outside, but he had with him two fresh cups of spiked punch. Xabi must have sought him out.

“What’s up?”

Xabi handed Fernando one of the drinks. “I heard you and Daniel broke up for good.”

It was the first time anyone had brought up the issue, but Fernando could hardly say he was shocked the news had spread. It was only a matter of time. If there was a third party in their relationship, it was the entire football team.

Fernando took a long sip from his drink, Xabi watching him carefully like he might bolt.

“Of course Daniel told Finns, didn’t he? And then Finns told Harry, and…” 

“I haven’t been talking to Harry, believe it or not.”

Fernando’s smile was wry. Xabi held up his hand and said solemnly, “I swear.”

Fernando would usually be sceptical, but he’s seen how Stevie and Xabi have slowly but surely rebuilt their relationship. He granted his friend the benefit of the doubt. “I believe you.”

“Anyway, Daniel didn’t tell Finns. He told Sami who promptly told Carra who told Stevie who told me,” Xabi said, laughing. “You know what they say, the only way to keep a secret among three people is to kill the other two.”

But Fernando didn’t follow. He stopped listening after hearing one name. “He told Sami?”

“Yeah. Odd choice?”

It was an odd choice. Sami had distanced himself from the team after graduation to focus on work. He probably didn’t know all that went on between Daniel and Fernando in the summer. Why would Dan come to him for help?

And yet, if there was one thing Fernando remembered about Sami, it was that when all was lost and their relationship had seemed beyond repair last year, he was the only one who was able to put them back together.

“Not odd.” Fernando murmured, “Just unexpected.”

Fernando didn’t want to dwell on Daniel. It was difficult enough to keep his emotions in a tight ball that he swallowed down. He turned his attention to Xabi.

“So, no Harry, huh?”

Xabi grinned into his drink. “It sounds hammy, but I honestly feel like I’ve changed.”

Fernando’s stomach clenched at that. “Huh. I’ve heard that before.”

“Okay, maybe it’s fairer to say, ‘I’ve learned my lesson.’ Happy?”

 _No dwelling on Daniel._ Fernando had to chant it to himself through gritted teeth. _This isn’t about Daniel._

But that was it, wasn’t it? Daniel didn’t need to change. It was unfair to start a relationship with someone on the condition that he changed.

He had fallen in love with Daniel, even at his worst. He was stubborn and aggressive and detached. They were also the best things about him. His stubbornness made him persistent. His aggression made him strong. His detachment made him independent.

Xabi wrapped an arm around the younger boy, lost in his thoughts. “How are you holding up?”

Fernando leaned into Xabi. He’s been keeping to himself for a while, he forgot how much comfort there was in having company. “Sometimes it gets tough, you know? Sometimes I just want to give up and say, ‘Let’s get back together.’ It would make everything so easy – I wouldn’t have to feel lonely or guilty or angry anymore.”

The blonde laughed bitterly, crushing the empty plastic cup in his hand. “And then that quickly escalates into doubt like, was I wrong to break up with Daniel? Did I just give up? Did I ask for too much?”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Xabi interrupted Fernando with a firm squeeze on the knee. He stressed, “Never feel guilty about fighting for what you deserve.”

Fernando smiled gratefully. “Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ there somewhere?”

Xabi blushed and started to retract. “Nothing, it’s not important.”

The other boy stared at him expectantly.

“It’s just…” Xabi sighed, tried to rephrase. “Maybe not now, maybe not anytime soon, but…”

“But?”

“But forgiveness is also a choice.”

Fernando blinked, looked down. “Oh.” He was expecting a grander revelation. “I’ve forgiven Dan many times.”

“So? ‘Love keeps no record of wrong,’ they say.”

The bitter scoff is automatic. “I don’t love Dan.”

Xabi chose to skip over that part. “Can I just say one last thing?” He felt like he was overstaying his welcome already, but Fernando let him go ahead.

“Daniel wasn’t perfect in many ways. He was insensitive, immature and afraid of commitment. He probably still is. But he never meant to hurt you,” Xabi said. “That should count for something. Because if you look at me, I knew, with every time I met Harry, that what I was doing was wrong and it would hurt Stevie, but I still kept on doing it over and over again.”

It was Xabi’s turn to be pensive. He shook his head, “I’m the bad guy here.”

The porch door swung open again, and the two boys looked over their shoulder to see who the newcomer was.

“Hey, we’ve been looking all over for the two of you,” Stevie said, smiling down at the Spaniards sitting on the steps. “Have I missed out on the scoop? What have you two been talking about?”

Xabi and Fernando exchanged glances. The Basque wrapped an arm around Stevie’s leg, beamed up at his boyfriend, “Just how lucky I am to have you.”

Even in the dark, it was clear to see Stevie’s cheeks flush a bright red. Xabi gave Fernando one last pat on the back and got to his feet. “We’ll see you inside.”

*

Fernando reread the sentence in his book again and again. Martin was talking so loudly, he could barely hear himself think.

“Enrolment’s done, I signed the papers a few days ago. Yeah.” Martin said on the phone, “Yeah, they told me... I don’t think so, but I’ll check.”

Fernando sighed and turned on his side, discreetly pressing his pillow against his ear. He would ask Martin to tone it down but he’s resorted to keeping their interactions short and rare, as much as possible. Besides, he had a feeling Martin wouldn’t take it well.

“Yeah, I got your wire transfer,” Martin said with the exasperation of a boy being nagged by a parent, mixed with a hint of longing, sadness. “I told you, I won’t spend it all! I can budget my money for a month, ma.”

Fernando smiled in spite of himself. He knew that tone. He sounded like that when he first moved to Liverpool -- stubbornly projecting he could be independent but absolutely terrified inside.

“Nothing, I just went out for a movie and dinner with some of the other boys... Just an action flick. Nothing special.”

Fernando almost turned around to face Martin. The Slovak was in their room when Fernando arrived from training, and he only left for an hour or so, coming back with books from the library and McDonald’s takeaway.

“Okay, goodbye. Good night, ma. Sure. Say hello to pops.”

Martin hung up the phone, threw it down on the night table and sighed loudly. He caught Fernando staring at him, and he immediately knew why. “What?” He snapped, defensive.

And for once, Fernando felt a pang of pity for Martin. He’d been working so hard to ignore his existence, he’d forgotten Martin was new to the school and the city. It was so predictable of him to cover up his fear with hostility.

“Have you been eavesdropping?” Martin demanded.

Fernando wasn’t going out of his way to offer Martin help if he didn’t want it. No way was he rewarding that kind of behaviour from the younger boy. But the least he could do was rise above Martin’s provocation.

He smiled wanly at the other boy. “Of course not.” He flicked the switch of the lamp on his side of the room. “I’m going to sleep. Just kill the lights when you’re done.”

*

When Fernando got back to the dorm after training, Martin was still spread out in bed in the same way he left him six hours ago. He looked pale and bored to death.

“Have you moved at all? Gotten breakfast or lunch?” Fernando asked as he dumped his gym clothes in the laundry basket.

“I’m not hungry,” Martin said, but even he didn’t seem keen on his bald-faced lie.

“Huh,” Fernando said. Already, it was their longest, most civil conversation yet. He picked up Martin’s discarded blankets from the floor and folded them -- a habit he picked up from Harry. “You have to get up sometime though.”

Martin stretched. “My head actually hurts from sleeping too much.”

Fernando laughed and tossed the folded blanket at Martin. “Well, get off your ass then.”

Martin stood up with all the speed of a slug. It was late in the afternoon. In only a few more hours, a normal person would be going to bed already. Martin’s day was just starting. Fernando, in contrast, looked bright and healthy and pleased with his productivity.

“Okay, maybe I am hungry,” Martin said, patting his grumbling stomach. He hated asking for help, especially from someone who, up until three minutes ago, he had avoided out of pride. Food seemed to be a safe enough topic, though. It wouldn’t wound his pride to ask questions about food. “Do you know a good place to eat? Somewhere hearty?”

Fernando considered it for a second. Fish and chips, steak and mash, all those inscrutable pies were out of the question. They were all first-timers ever ate in England. He’d done the tourist route when he first arrived in Liverpool too. He ate fish and chips for two weeks straight then avoided it ever since.

“Have you ever tried Nando’s?”

“Is this a set-up to a dirty joke?”

“My dick isn’t named ‘Nando’ if that’s what you’re implying.”

Martin laughed as he started to wash up. “Well, it was a golden opportunity for a dirty joke and you passed it up.”

Fernando rolled his eyes. One whole year with Harry and he still didn’t see that punchline coming. “Anyway, it’s a restaurant that serves peri-peri chicken. At least it’s a step above McDonald’s.”

His roommate scrunched his face. “Peri-peri chicken?” He wasn’t really an adventurous eater.

“Yeah, and they have different sauces and spicy rice. It’s really good. There’s one along Duncan St. It should be just a 10-minute walk.”

“Okay, okay. Maybe I’ll give it a try.”

Fernando settled in bed with his laptop, preparing to watch a movie before going out for dinner himself. He was halfway through the opening credits when he noticed Martin was still in the room, stalling. He pulled out one of his earphones, “Yeah? Do you need me to write down directions?”

Martin rummaged around his pockets for nothing in particular. “You can go with me if you want. Early dinner.”

Fernando recognised the attempt at an invitation. He wasn’t really hungry yet, but would it hurt him to eat early? “Uh, okay.”

Martin actually looked relieved, but it disappeared from his face in a second. He shrugged nonchalantly. “Cool.”

“We can go to the main branch. It’s farther away, but at least you’ll get a tour of the city centre.”

“Cool.”

Too late for the iceman act, Fernando wanted to say but for the sake of newfound civility, he held his tongue. He grabbed his wallet and room keys. “Let’s go then.”

*

Dinner with Martin became a daily thing. Fernando enjoyed spending time away from the team – and Daniel – after long hours of training. Learning about somebody new, it turned out, was a great distraction.

Martin wasn’t like anyone Fernando’s ever known. He was dry but not sarcastic. Just brutally honest. If Fernando told a lame joke, Martin wouldn’t even bother faking a laugh. He would just stare at the other boy blankly then carry on talking. It was the conversational equivalent of stepping over a pile of shit.

His personality may have rubbed Fernando the wrong way at the start, but he soon realised it wasn’t malicious. Martin just had this inability to edit what he really thought.

Fernando still missed Harry, but he stopped wishing he would replace Martin. The Slovak wasn’t all that bad. He wasn't going to call him a friend just yet, but there was nothing wrong in finally acknowledging they were roommates.

They were having dinner that night in All Bar One; Martin wanted a glimpse of the nightlife so Fernando picked a restopub for them. Too bad he forgot it was also the favourite haunt of somebody else.

The moment Daniel walked in, Fernando’s eyes found him immediately. His body seized up like he’d been grabbed by the neck and shaken like a doll.

Sensing the shift in atmosphere, Martin froze too, his burger halfway to his mouth. “Are you okay?”

Fernando went back to slicing his steak but his fork slipped from his fingers, clattering noisily against his plate.  
“Yeah, yeah, of course.”

Daniel was with his older cousins, Fernando recognised them from the old family albums. They were looking for a place to sit, and when the Dane turned their way, Fernando immediately ducked to pick up his cutlery.

“What is it? Did Ian Rush just walk in?”

Fernando’s laugh came out like a shriek. “No, I just…” He poked at his peas busily. From the corner of his eye, he saw Daniel and his cousins take their seat a few tables away. Did he see Fernando? “I just thought I saw someone I knew.”

“Huh,” Martin said. The Spaniard was such a bad liar.

He barely ate his food throughout dinner even though he kept his head down and his gaze focused on his plate. He stopped talking too. When Martin tried to prod him into conversation, he would limit himself to distracted, one-syllable replies.

Martin discreetly looked around, trying to identify who was causing all this fuss, but it was just the usual dinner crowd of students. It was only as they neared the end of their meal – well, Martin ate, at least – that someone came up to them, someone familiar.

“Hey,” the boy said. He kept a safe distance from Fernando even as he was talking to him. “Can I borrow you for a moment?”

Fernando glanced at Martin; Martin stared back, waiting for a cue. His roommate was clearly uncomfortable, but he didn’t know what he was supposed to do. “I’m new here,” he pointed out to Fernando.

The Spaniard sighed and stood up. “Thanks a lot.”

“Excuse us,” the boy nodded at Martin.

Once they stepped aside, hiding in the cramped hallway leading to the kitchen, Daniel demanded, “Are you seeing him?”

The anger Fernando thought had withered away in the days after their fight, it came right back. All it took was one hostile question. “What?”

“He looks like an asshole.”

Fernando scoffed. “You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah, and you’re not dating me either, are you?”

“Yeah, and thank god for that.”

Daniel shook his head, livid. No one could get under his skin quite like Fernando. He began to leave. His night was ruined now as it was, there was no use making it worse.

“Oh, so that’s it? You just took me aside to pick a fight with me?” Fernando called out. Daniel recognised the tone – petty and petulant.

“I don’t want to keep you from your date.”

“He’s not my – Jesus Christ, you’re unbelievable!”

Daniel held out his hands even as he continued walking away, “I’m sorry I’m not ready to see you with someone else.”

“I don’t – I’m not – You don’t even have a…” Fernando struggled to explain even though it was futile. Daniel disappeared in the crowd. He looked for him back in his table but he wasn’t there. “Fuck!” He groaned.

By the time he returned to his table, Martin was bored and playing with the salt and pepper shakers.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Nothing, but thanks for your help anyway.”

“If it was nothing, you wouldn’t have needed any help.”

Fernando looked around for a waiter, wondering if he could get away with a pint of beer tonight despite training tomorrow. “It was nothing. We had an argument in training. Bad tackle. He came over to apologise.”

“Huh.” Again with these bad lies.

“By the way, that was Daniel. He’s also a defender on the football team. You’ll meet him once you join training.”

Martin snapped his fingers. “Yeah, yeah, now I remember him. I thought he was familiar.”

“You’ve met?”

“He used to come by the dorm a lot. We’d bump into each other when I was there to move in my things.”

Fernando did a double-take. “Really?” He didn’t know why but his heartbeat quickened. “And what would he do there?” 

“He’d just talk to Harry.”

“Oh, I…” Fernando’s words tapered off and he stared down at his hands, his face a storm of emotions. Martin politely ignored it. It seemed like a personal moment.

“He looks like an asshole,” Martin offered, just to lighten the atmosphere.

“You’re an asshole.”

“I know. Don’t you just love us?”

Fernando’s lips twisted into a wry smile. Oh, did he ever.

*

“Alright, come one, come all! Get your drinks here! Ice-cold drinks just for you!” Pepe was barking out at the sidelines of the training pitch, gathering his teammates around a cooler of Lucozade. They just finished their last session of what had been a gruelling summer of pre-season training, and they could finally goof around. Even Rafa and his coaching staff were sat on the bleachers, their stopwatches and whistles set aside.

Pepe was still hollering, waving around the bottles in the air, “We have a selection of four premium flavours for you to choose from. Raging raspberry! Charming cherry!”

“Charming cherry?”

“Bloody hell, Pepe, are you really going to make those up as you go along?”

Pepe paid them no mind. “O… some orange!”

The team burst out laughing – even Carra, although grudgingly.

Xabi was grabbing drinks for himself and Stevie when he noticed Fernando at the fringes of the group. He was even more quiet than usual. Not even the generous sunshine or the banter among the players seemed to cheer him up.

If something was bothering Fernando… Xabi looked around for Daniel. He found him even farther away, standing by the water cooler all alone.

“Alright?”

Xabi looked up. His boyfriend was staring at him quizzically. He nodded at Fernando a few yards from them, “It’s just a shame. School is about to start and the year holds so much promise. It seems wrong to be so unhappy.”

Stevie glanced at Fernando and then Daniel, shrugged indifferently. “They don’t need to be together to be happy.”

If Xabi didn’t know Stevie any better, he’d be taken aback by the vitriol in his tone. “You’re such a nonbeliever.”

“I am a believer!” Stevie said. He stole a quick kiss from his lover. “But only of the right person and the right time.”

Xabi understood where Stevie was coming from. He had a very purist idea of love. Of course the right person and the right time were important. But that was a luxury not many people had. Sometimes you had to meet the wrong person at the wrong time, and sometimes you would realise there wasn’t anything wrong with that.

Carra came around and started up a conversation with Stevie about the auditions for the team. Xabi slipped away before the Scousers could notice.

“Hey,” Xabi said, walking up to Fernando.

Fernando took a second to respond, his head in the clouds. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Any chance you could do me a favour and fetch me a bottle of water?”

Fernando glanced down at the unopened bottle of Lucozade in Xabi’s hands. The Basque smiled at him innocently. He just sighed and said yes. Xabi could be strange sometimes but Fernando chose not to point it out because what did he know? He definitely wasn’t as smart as Xabi anyway.

It wasn’t until it was too late and he was standing in front of the water cooler and Daniel that he realised he fell into a trap.

“That fucking smart-ass.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “Hello to you too?”

Fernando’s cheeks flushed, though he couldn’t understand why that was his natural reaction. “No, sorry, I didn’t mean you. I meant Xabi,” he babbled in the least graceful way possible.

Daniel smirked, searched for Xabi among the players loitering by the sidelines but he’d conveniently disappeared. “I suppose he sent you over?”

“Basically.”

Dan held out a bottle of water. Fernando eyed it, “I don’t think Xabi really wanted some.”

“You can take it. At least you can go back to Xabi and say you’ve done his bidding.” The words came out prickly, so Dan backtracked. “Not that you have to go, of course. You can stay if you want… to hang out by the water cooler,” he finished lamely, staring down at the cooler leaking melted ice all over the grass.

The blonde took the water bottle. Then he shifted his weight from foot to foot, but he didn’t turn around to leave. Dan’s heart sank one moment then soared the next, it made him nauseous.

The training ground around them grew quiet as the players settled down with their drinks, lying down on the grass to rest and stretch.

“So, Xabi’s on my side, huh? How did that happen?”

“I’ve given up trying to understand the way he thinks.”

“Does that mean I’m right?”

“Oh, Xabi is not always right. He’s smart but not always right,” Fernando said. “We can name one of his biggest mistakes as ‘Harry Kewell.’”

Dan laughed a loud, booming laugh, straight from the pit of his stomach. The kind that could only be triggered when a conversation built up and hit its sweet spot. The kind that could brighten up your day.

Dan plopped down on the grass, crossing his legs in front of him. He looked up at Fernando expectantly, a silent invitation to sit with him. Things were going well enough, Dan figured he could take the risk.

Fernando stalled for a minute but he eventually sat down too.

“I’m sorry about ambushing you the other night,” Dan said. He hated apologies but lately, they were all he’s been saying. They were coming much easier now too. They no longer felt like an admission of defeat.

“It’s fine. I overreacted too,” Fernando said.

“I know it wasn’t my place. It just,” Dan shrugged, frowned at the memory. “It killed me.”

The air about them grew heavy and not just because of the stifling heat. “He really is just my roommate.”

“I know. I recognised him later on. Martin?”

Fernando nodded. “Also a centreback.”

“And an asshole.”

“He’s basically you.”

“A less hot version of me,” Daniel pointed out. “So please don’t date him. Cos if you are, you might as well just date me instead.”

Fernando had to crack a smile. This was the Daniel he remembered. He was direct and to the point. There was no elephant in the room with him. There was no walking on eggshells.

Since they were on the topic anyway… “I’m sorry I slapped you the other time,” Fernando said.

Daniel laughed. “That was a good hit.”

“Really? It wasn’t a pansy slap?”

“No, it was pretty meaty.”

“I don’t see any bruises,” Fernando said.

“I think I just have good genes,” Daniel said, angling his face so Fernando could inspect. His ears grew hot as he stared at Dan’s neck and jaw. Its freckles, its dips and angles – he could map them with his eyes closed.

The Dane reclined on the ground, propped up on his elbows. Beside him, Fernando relaxed too. He bunched up his training vest and used it as a pillow so he could lie down.

“Are the apologies done yet?” Dan asked. “We’ve been fighting a lot, haven’t we?”

Fernando’s smile was sad now, weary. “You know us. When we’re good, we’re brilliant. When we’re bad, we’re impossible.”

Dan didn’t think they were impossible, but he let that go. He picked at the grass, “You know what they say. No one ever wrote songs about the easy ones.”

Fernando stared at him in disbelief, adoring and loathing the defender in equal measure. “I wish you wouldn’t say things like those.”

“I was just being honest.”

Fernando shook his head and Dan could sense him putting his walls up again. He reached out and covered Fernando’s hand with his own – it was such an instinctive move, it caught even him by surprise.

“What?”

“Wait,” Dan said. He took a deep breath. If he didn’t say this now, he would never say it. “In the spirit of honesty, I just wanted to say… you were right. This isn’t working out.” 

There was a soundless gasp but other than that, it was still. A few yards away, Carra was yelling as Pepe pulled down his shorts and Alvaro darted out a leg to try and trip him. Beyond the walls of the training ground, the streets were getting filled with cars and pedestrians ahead of the rush hour. But between Daniel and Fernando, it was just still.

It had taken a while – about a hundred or so sad songs and a case of beer – but Daniel had come to terms with it. If he thought back on the past months that they were together, a third of the time, they were fighting. The other third, they were giving each other a reason to fight.

They had a good thing going, but Daniel didn’t want to force it if it was only going to destroy them.

Fernando didn’t need Daniel’s approval to move on but, somehow, what the other boy just said seemed to lift a weight on his shoulders. It felt like he was light and free. “Thanks,” he said.

Daniel shrugged to show it was okay, but his world was starting to crumble around him. He closed his eyes and turned his face to the sun. “Do you think this is the end for us?” He hoped there wasn’t a wobble in his voice, though his throat was closing up.

The grass rustled. He opened one eye to see Fernando turning to his side, studying him intently. “I don’t think I’ll find anyone I’ll like as much as I like you.”

“I don’t have plans of looking for anyone _but_ you.”

Fernando shook his head firmly, held his hand up to make Dan stop. “I don’t want you to wait for me. I don’t want you to not see other people.”

He couldn’t afford to be unclear about this to Dan and, more importantly, to himself. “If we get another chance at this relationship in the future, I don’t want it to be because we just couldn’t move on. It should be because we’ve become friends again, we’ve fallen in love again and we want to try again.”

Dan still looked confused. “Can I still talk to you? Can we still hang out? You know, for us to be friends again?”

“Not now. It’s still too soon.” Fernando said. He remembered their non-date, shook his head and laughed, “The last time we tried be friends again, we ended up kissing.”

“We can keep trying then,” Dan winked.

“Dan!”

“Okay, okay! I was just kidding!” The playful smirk disappeared. “When is it not too soon then?”

“I don’t know.”

“Will you be seeing anyone?” Just the thought of it made Dan shudder.

“I don’t know.”

“Will you at least tell me if you are? Just so I can prepare myself?”

Fernando nodded, “Of course.”

Dan didn’t realize his hand was still on Fernando’s. He traced the veins and the bones. “It’s just so… uncertain.”

“Such is life,” Fernando said. “But if we find our way back…”

“That’s when you know.”

Fernando smiled and Daniel felt like he should say something. I’m sorry? Not again. I’ll miss you? Not yet.

“I…”

Fernando held his breath as he watched the other boy struggle with his feelings.

“I…” Dan exhaled. “I don’t know what to say.”

 _You never did_ , Fernando thought to himself – but with no bitterness, just acceptance. Dan wasn’t ready in the same way he wasn’t ready, and that was why they were making the right decision. He had to admit, though, it felt good no longer having to wait on Dan to say the right thing.

“Let’s head back?”

Dan blinked a few times, as if he was just waking up. “Okay,” he said, a little lightheaded.

Fernando looked at their linked hands and laced their fingers together. It didn’t feel right to say goodbye, so he just left a lingering kiss on the back of Dan’s hand, his skin pale and smelling of grass.

*

There was still one thing left to do.

Daniel paced his room nervously, his phone pressed to his ear. It kept ringing and ringing, and he didn’t know whether he wanted the call to be answered or dropped.

Just as he was about to lose his nerve, the other person picked up.

“Why the fuck are you calling me?” Stevie said by way of greeting.

Dan rolled his eyes. They were off to a good start. “Jesus, Gerrard, don’t think I’m enjoying this.”

He couldn’t even call him Stevie. He couldn’t muster up the chumminess that came with that godawful nickname.

“Well then hang the fuck up!” The Scouser yelled.

“Would you chill out? This will be quick!” Dan found himself shouting back.

“Nothing is too quick if I’m talking to you.”

Dan threw himself on his bed. Here he was, trying to do a good thing and he was getting castigated for it. He didn’t even know he had Stevie’s number. It was a good thing his mother, like all mothers, posted the team directory on their refrigerator door. For emergencies, she always said. This could count as an emergency?

“I just wanted to say,” Dan stared at his ceiling, recited the words like he’d memorized, “I’m staying away from Fernando… like you wanted.”

After much yelling, the sudden silence was deafening. He could feel Stevie struggling with all the things he wanted to say. Finally, the older boy settled with a snort and muttered, “It’s about time.”

Dan hated it, this feeling that people were betting against him despite all his work to get back together with Fernando. He let it be, though. The fight was over, at least for now.

“Well, that’s it,” he said unceremoniously. “Goodbye.”

Of course Stevie wouldn’t let him dictate the pace of the conversation. Just as he was about to hang up, Stevie started talking again.

“So the saga is finally over? This is it?”

“I guess so. The saga is finally over.”

“I thought you wanted to convince Fernando to try again,” Stevie pointed out.

“I did, and I still want to. But he wanted us to keep our distance, and I guess I understand where he’s coming from.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.” Daniel said. He checked the screen of his phone. The call duration was stretching beyond five minutes. This must be a world record. “So, goodbye?”

“You know,” Stevie cut him off again. “I didn’t _want_ the two of you to break up.”

“I know, I know.”

“I was just looking out for Fernando.”

“Yeah, it’s nothing personal.”

This time, can we say goodbye? Daniel itched to press the “end” button.

“But you know,” Stevie piped up one more time and Dan bit back a groan. “I hate to admit this, but despite all your _obvious_ shortcomings…” he sighed grudgingly, “You actually made Fernando happy.”

“Oh.”

“And for that, I hope the two of you find a way to move on from this.”

Dan sat up. He almost missed what Stevie said, he wanted him to say it again. Was that Stevie… _giving his blessing_? “Wow, I…”

Stevie scoffed. “Well, don’t cry now.”

“I wasn’t! Jesus. Goodbye.”

“Hey, hey, hey! Hold on!”

“Jesus, Gerrard, do you enjoy talking to me that much?”

“Aren’t you gonna apologise for hitting me as well?”

Dan thought about it. That wasn’t in the plan and to be honest, he’d done enough good things today. “Mmm, no.”

“What? Come on now.”

“Why, did it hurt?”

“There wasn’t even a scratch on me.”

“There’s no need for me to say sorry then,” Dan chided. “Goodbye!”

*

It was the night before school and in Fernando and Martin’s dorm room, you could cut the tension with a knife. Martin was manic. He suddenly couldn’t find his enrolment slip and he wasn’t happy with how the tailor cut his uniform. He packed and repacked his bag, and all the while he was wearing his leather shoes with his pyjamas to break them in.

Fernando told him a dozen times to relax. At worst, if he forgot something tomorrow, he could just run across campus and go back to the dorms to fetch it. But Martin wasn’t having it and he put all his school supplies in his backpack until it was bursting.

Eventually, Fernando had to leave. Martin’s nervous energy was putting him on edge, and he just wanted to relax before the school year brought in the work and the stress.

There was still an hour and a half before curfew so he headed to the library with a couple of comic books under his arm. He quite liked spending his time there – he remembered when he first came to Anfield High and he still wasn’t in the football team, he whiled away his nights studying. He still had grand ambitions of being a good student then. 

The library was mostly empty. There were more staff than students. Fernando headed for his favourite study table, nestled by the windows, overlooking the school grounds. When he passed by a cluster of couches, though, Fernando slowed. And there was just a nagging thought in the back of his head.

Daniel’s favourite couch was around here somewhere. Off by the corner, with its very own lamp, its upholstery a faded pink compared to the vibrant maroon of the newer sets.

Fernando didn’t know why – there was a stirring in his heart – but he wandered over. “Just to check,” he told himself, like he had to explain.

His legs were heavy as he walked over, and all the while he berated himself and thought it would be impossible for Dan to be there. It was the night before the first day of school. Who would spend it in a library? Well, other than him, of course.

And yet, there he was.

At first glimpse, Fernando told himself it probably wasn’t Daniel. He may have looked slimmer, his hair longer. But with a better look, it was definitely him. Fernando always loved the way Dan curled himself into a little ball when he read, like a little boy reading underneath the sheets beyond bedtime.

Dan looked up. “Oh. Hello.”

Fernando had no explanation as to why he was standing there. “I… was just walking around.”

“Your usual desk is at the other end of the room.”

Fernando’s cheeks heated up. He hid his face behind one of his comic books. “Right. It’s probably a good idea to head there now,” he stammered. He spun on his heel and almost tripped on a fold in the carpet.

Dan bit back a chuckle. “If it makes you feel better, I passed by your desk when I arrived too.”

It did make Fernando feel better. His heart swelled, and he let the warmth spread across his chest. 

“But, you know, distance.”

“Distance, exactly.”

They nodded at each other respectfully, but they both held back smiles. The smiles that you had to keep to yourself, those were always the best kind.

“It was nice to see you here.”

“You were the only other person I expected to see here.”

Dan stared wistfully as Fernando walked back to his favourite desk. Sometimes he forgot how arresting he could be. He saw him every day and thought of him much more often than that, he’d become so used to the idea of him.

But sometimes, when Fernando caught him off-guard, such as today, it was like it was the first time he saw him, all over again.

This was where he first met Fernando a year ago. He had jumped in, all smirks and pick-up lines, and Fernando shut him up by propositioning him behind the shelves of the Anthropology section. God, they were still so brazen back then. Proud and reckless.

The bell rang, signalling the closing time of the library. Fernando stood up to catch the curfew of his dormitory, and it took Daniel all he had not to spring up and go after him. _Distance_ , he told himself.

Fernando glanced over, maybe to check if Daniel was going to follow. When he saw that the Dane had stayed back, a look of confusion, even disappointment, crossed his face. But he blinked it away and smiled gratefully. Dan nodded in return, mouthed “good night” and waved.

They just needed time to be better people, Dan told himself. They were already beginning to be.


End file.
